Will to Live
by CMY187
Summary: 39-year old dwarf Dorean lacks strength, power, and a commanding appearance. What he does have are his skills as a thief, the teachings of his foster father Gorion, a willingness to do anything it would take to survive, including manipulation and murder, and the detachment of a sociopath. He will see himself and Imoen through this crisis, no matter the cost to everyone around them.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

Welcome to my first-ever attempt at writing a fanfiction, initiated mainly due to the encouragement and support of Kyn, author of the Aegis of Candlekeep series and a far better writer than I could ever hope to be.

The protagonist Dorean is a Neutral Evil dwarf thief.

I hope you'll enjoy reading this first chapter, and if you haven't, I encourage you to read the BG fics of Kyn and kaispan as well.

..

* * *

Dorean smelt the rat before he saw its head emerge from the nearby haystacks. His lips curled into a smile behind his beard.

 _There you are. Nice to meet you at last._

From his position in the barn rafter, the dwarf watched intently as the rat sniffed the air before shoving its body out of the bale in a small shower of golden strands. At twenty inches long from snout to tail and with a rich, brown coat of hair, it made for an impressive specimen.

 _Been eating well, haven't you? Must be, from all the forages you've made into the priest's quarters. Then there's the feast you had at poor Dreppin's expense._

At that last thought, Dorean barely suppressed an urge to chuckle. He stayed very still, hands on his lap with only his eyes moving to follow the rat. His eyebrows creased into a frown as he watched it rear up on its hind legs to get a better view of its surroundings.

 _Smarter than all the others. You've avoided every trap I've laid for you in the past three weeks. Even broke and bypassed a few of them. Very smart._

It was after thirty seconds, during which the rat had not moved at all, that Dorean realized he had been holding his breath.

He saw then that the rat was moving its head very slowly from left to right, scanning the open barn, and he exhaled through his nose, his smile turning into a grimace.

 _If I don't get you here and now, chances are I never will._

After a few more sweeps of its head, the rat focused its gaze on a half-eaten bread bun lying on the floor in the middle of the barn, directly below where Dorean lurked on the rafter beam. Its whiskers twitched.

 _There it is. Cheese flavouring with a honeyed centre, ordered from Beregost. Cost me quite a bit to keep it preserved for delivery. Won't find anything like it here in Candlekeep._

At last it moved with alarming speed for its large size, body turning into a brownish blur. It sped across the ground toward its target, whiskers twitching in anticipation.

With a predatory grin almost wide enough to reveal his lips through his beard, Dorean slowly moved his left hand to the knife at his belt. He leaned forward, thigh muscles tensing for the drop.

 _That's it. Come and get it. The best and last meal you will ever-_

It stopped less than a metre away from the bun, rearing up again and swivelling its head rapidly from side to side.

The dwarf froze, his fingers around yet not touching the knife handle. He did not lean back despite the strain threatening to make his drop a premature one. His eyes narrowed to slits as he scrutinized the rat now almost directly below him. Several thoughts raced through his mind.

 _Do it now? Am I close enough? Would I have to push hard off the beam? Will it hear me if I do?_

A dull pain began to build in his bunched-up muscles, but Dorean continued to keep still. He felt a bead of sweat at his eyebrow.

Seconds pass in what seem like minutes before the rat stopped looking around. It lowered its front end and then starred at the bun, its whiskers aquiver. Dorean felt the upper corner of his lip twitching almost to match the rat's, and he barred his teeth in a silent snarl.

 _It will be dawn soon. What will you do, o brave and smart rat? Do you play it safe and leave your prize behind when it is within your grasp, or do you get greedy?_

Finally giving in to temptation, the rat scurried over to the bun, hopped on top of it, and began tearing into the bread with its teeth.

 _You get greedy. Good boy._

Moving as slowly as he could, all the while keeping his eyes on the target, Dorean leaned back, drew his knife, held it in both hands, and then, with as little movement and effort as possible, pushed himself off of the beam.

The knife blade descended like a guillotine, plunging up to its hilt into the rat's body and pinning it to the bread bun.

 _Got you at last-_

Pain shot through his arms as claws raked at his wrists and a set of molars bit deep into his hand.

"Gods!-"

The rat writhed and squirmed beneath the knife, and Dorean hurriedly gripped it with both hands as it threatened to slip from his grasp, falling to his knees to keep himself from losing his balance. Blood specks and bread crumbs flew into his face as he gritted his teeth and held onto the weapon.

"Damn you!-"

The pain in his bitten hand had rapidly risen from burning to white-hot. Releasing the knife, he grabbed the rat by the back of its head with his free hand to force open its jaws. He felt the spray of blood in his face as he freed the other hand and clamped it around the animal's neck, wrist bent for a sharp twist.

"Why won't you just-"

The rat's face had been lifted up to his, and the animal immediately ceased all movement.

"...die."

Beady, oily-black eyes starred up into deep set gray. He could feel a thundering pulse through his hands as lifeblood seeped from around the blade buried in its side. Rat and dwarf went still, both breathing heavily.

After a moment, Dorean spoke to it, his voice gentle but firm.

"It's over. Let it go."

The rat's breathing slowly receded, and he felt its muscles relax. Its head rested against his torn hand, and it became still.

After a moment, Dorean lowered the head and neck to the ground, then leaned back with his hands resting palms-up on his knees.

He heard a rustle and looked up to see that Candlekeep's only cow had awoken and risen its head to stare at him through the twin bars of its stall, unblinking and unmoving.

He realized then what a sight he must be; his tunic had been stained red and he could feel blood on his face and neck. The pain in his wrists and hand had settled from sharp needle stabs to a slow, steady burn.

"Morning, Nessa," he said, wincing as another lance of pain shot through his hand.

As Dorean gingerly got to his feet, rays of light travelled along the grass and dirt toward him, and he reflexively blinked as his infravision turned off. He looked up to see the sky fading from dark blue to orange.

Dawn had arrived, and with it a new day in Candlekeep.

..

* * *

Having made the rounds in his inn for any early-morning customers, Winthrop walked down a corridor from the common room to find Dorean waiting for him.

The dwarf had taken his usual spot in the kitchen; at the counter next to the back door. Winthrop's round face broke into a smile and he entered the kitchen, nodding his head in greeting.

"Hello there, young one. So how was last night's hunt?"

Dorean raised his cradled arms from behind the counter, revealing the paper-wrapped carcass in them. Winthrop gave a low whistle.

"Got him at last, have ye? Look at the size of it. Fellow must weigh at lea-"

He stopped and looked the dwarf up and down, noting the bloodstains on his face, beard and clothes along with the bandages on his hands and wrists.

"What happened?"

Dorean shrugged nonchalantly, placing the dead rat on the counter.

"He got me too."

At that moment, Imoen walked into the kitchen, took one look at Dorean and jumped.

"Little brother!"

Dorean winced, more from her high-pitched squeak than the label.

"I stopped by the clinic, the healer said I'll be fine," he said quickly.

"Put up quite a fight, didn't it?" Winthrop said, looking down at the stab wound in the side of the carcass along with the blood on its claws and teeth.

"They usually don't, at least not as much as this- ow!"

Imoen had ran over and taken hold of his bandaged wrists.

"How badly were you hurt? Did it bite you? Did you get checked for infections?" She placed a hand on his forehead. "I heard you can get fever from rat bites..."

"I said I'm fine," Dorean exclaimed, pushing her hands away. "Will you stop worrying about me all the time?"

"Of course I'm worried about you!" Imoen waggled her arms. "You're always getting yourself into trouble. Staying up late 'til dawn to kill rats, breaking into Ulraunt's room to leave cow poo under his bed..."

"That was your idea!"

"Yes," said Imoen, crossing her arms, "and it was a bad one, you shouldn't have listened to me!"

"And yet _you_ want to be responsible for _me_ ," said Dorean, tilting his head to the side.

"Of course! You're my little brother! Who else would you listen to?" Imoen answered, in a tone that conveyed perfect sense and no argument.

Dorean rubbed his forehead to stave off the incoming headache.

"Imoen, please stop calling me that. I'm nearly twice as old as you."

Imoen placed both hands on her hips, pointing her chin at him. "Only in years and not in maturity!" She gave a toothy grin.

Beard bristling, Dorean opened his mouth and pointed his finger for a blistering retort when he saw that Winthrop had been watching their bickering with an elbow on the counter and a smile on his face. He dropped his hand to his lap and glared at the innkeeper.

Still smiling, Winthrop pulled up a chair up to the counter. "Sit down, my girl. Yer brother will be fine, he's a tough kid. S'gonna take more than one rat to get him sick." He gave the dwarf a wink and received a glower in return.

Imoen huffed but accepted the chair, pushing it next to Dorean's before taking her seat. The dwarf rolled his eyes before looking back up to Winthrop.

"You got something for us?" he asked irritably. The day had started with him getting clawed and bitten by a rat, then vexed by Imoen and teased by Winthrop. His mood was far from pleasant now.

Winthrop leaned forward conspiratorially, now sporting his familiar roguish grin.

"Do either of you remember Christian of Waterdeep?"

"Not really," replied Dorean.

Imoen was frowning at his bandaged hands, but perked up at Winthrop's inquiry.

"The green-wearing nobleman who was here last month? Kept to himself a lot?" She turned to Dorean. "Isn't he the one that Ulraunt accused us of pick-pocketing?"

"Yeah, that's him," Winthrop replied, nodding. His grin was still in place, now accompanied by an ominous twinkle in his eyes. "Ol' Tethtoril told me Ulraunt had five watchers turn your room inside out while he questioned the both'a you outside."

"A gold medallion," Dorean answered with a sigh, looking at the dead rat. "After Christian reported it missing, Ulraunt grilled us for over an hour. He wouldn't have suggested using enchantment spells if _someone_ didn't keep making faces at him every time he looked at me." Ignoring the tongue being stuck out at him, the dwarf drew a skinning knife from his belt and set to work on the carcass. Imoen's petulant expression turned to one of revulsion. She averted her eyes and looked back to Winthrop.

"You should have seen the mess they left the room in, pops," she said, waving her arms while leaning away from Dorean. "They even opened up our mattresses! Ulraunt had no proof we took anything."

"Since when has," Dorean paused to cut a slit in the rat's belly, "that ever stopped him? He's the man in charge of Candlekeep, he can do whatever he wants. Besides," he added, glaring pointedly at Imoen, " _I'd_ never hide any stolen items in our room." The pink-clad girl huffed and crossed her arms.

"Good thing you sold the necklace to me then, eh?" said Winthrop. His grinned widened toothily at the duo's reactions; Dorean groaned while Imoen's eyes widened and her body turned in her seat to face her roommate, grabbing him by his shoulder.

"You made a steal without me!?"

"The tavern was busy, you were working. I couldn't wait for you all night." Dorean kept his eyes down on the carcass, holding it in place with one hand while the other held the knife.

"I thought we were a team, little brother." Lips pouted and eyes widened into an expression of hurt and adoration. Without looking up, Dorean placed a linen-wrapped, blood-stained palm in her face. "Mmph!" She batted it away and swatted his shoulder.

"So, about Christian," the dwarf said, giving Winthrop a look that in no uncertain terms told the innkeeper not to reveal any more past capers that may or may not have been committed without Imoen's knowledge.

"He arrived last afternoon. This is his third visit to Candlekeep."

"Third visit," said the dwarf, reaching over and turning the rat carcass around to get a better angle for his knife. He felt Imoen shudder beside him. "That makes him a regular. Add that he was already robbed on his last stay, and _that_ makes him a high risk." After a moment, he looked up at Winthrop. "Alright, give us the room number."

"Ye know me price, children," replied the innkeeper. A large, calloused hand extended toward them, palm up. Dorean bumped Imoen with his hip, and she winced as one of his many belt pouches hit her side.

"You pay him."

"Why do I have to pay him?" she pouted.

"Because you're the responsible one," replied Dorean, smiling at her.

Fuming, Imoen reached into her money pouch and handed Winthrop two gold coins. "There. Charge your own daughter for information, why don't you."

Chuckling, Winthrop pocketed the money. "Noble suite, first door on the right. In the last two times he's been here, he always stayed up late in the libraries, so you should have plenty of time to make the steal."

"Anything else?" asked Dorean. He heard a "Yech!" from beside him as he slowly began peeling the skin off of the carcass.

"No, that's it. If any other potential marks show up, I'll pass whatever I learn to Imoen here, same as usual."

"Of course, this means I'll be paying for it too," Imoen grumbled. Dorean reached over and patted her shoulder, leaving a bloody hand-print on her tunic. "Hey!" She protested.

"I'll reimburse you, quit complaining." Setting down his knife, Dorean placed the rat skin next to the carcass and leaned back in his seat. "I need to get cleaned up. Could you get this and Gorion's breakfast ready by the time I get back?"

"That'll cost you 3 gold," Winthrop said. He laughed and raised his hands at the dwarf's piercing glare. "I'm sorry, that was a joke!"

Imoen laughed as well and placed an arm around Dorean's back.

"You take everything way too seriously, little brother."

"Someone around here has to," grumbled the dwarf, irritated by the combined joviality.

"As if I would charge you fer what you do every day. Yer old man would have my hide if I did!" said Winthrop, still shaking in mirth at Dorean's reaction. Then he looked at the rat on the counter. "Ooh, wrong choice of words there." He turned away and reached for a white apron hanging on the wall. "The usual, then?"

"Add some fish and red meat. He's been staying up later than ever lately."

When Winthrop had moved away to begin his work, Dorean looked at Imoen and then at the now-skinned rat. "You know, I almost regret having to eat this thing."

"'Almost?' "I'll never understand why you like them at all."

"Aren't rats supposed to be a delicacy to dwarves?" Dorean asked, turning to look at her.

"Reevor doesn't eat them, he just likes killing them." Imoen answered. "And he's the only other dwarf we know, so we don't have a lot to go on." She paused in thought. "The ones who visit Candlekeep never asked about there being rat on the menu, as far as I can remember." She looked back at the skinned carcass, now no longer shuddering.

"So why do you like them? You've never told me why."

Dorean paused, looking up at nothing in particular. "There's just...something. About eating an animal you have killed yourself." He did not turn to see Imoen's expression. After a moment, he shrugged. "That sounds morbid, I know."

"Imoen!" they heard Winthrop call from the common room. She reached over and tousled his hair.

"I gotta get to work. You get cleaned up and make sure to redress your wounds afterwards, alright?"

"Yes, yes," Dorean sighed irritably, not looking at her. The pink girl gave him a hug, hopped off her chair, grabbed a pink-coloured apron off the wall, and hurried to join the innkeeper.

Now alone in the kitchen, he looked down at the carcass and recalled Winthrop's comment.

"Yeah. You did put up quite a fight."

He stepped off the chair, onto the fruit crate next to it and then to the floor, pushing open and walking through the door leading out to the backyard of the inn.

..

* * *

Dorean stopped outside the door to Gorion's room, hearing hushed voices within. He hesitated before knocking twice and pushing it open.

Gorion was seated behind his desk, and Tethtoril standing in front of it.

The dwarf stood awkwardly at the doorway, a basket in the crook of his arm.

The warm smile from Gorion did not quite reach his eyes; Dorean had become accustomed to seeing it every morning, and he immediately picked up that something was wrong. His eyes darted to the priest.

"Good morning, Tethtoril," he greeted cautiously. Despite the gentle and soft-spoken general demeanour of the First Reader of Candlekeep, Dorean had always felt that this man is the real person in charge of the library fortress and not Ulraunt.

"Good morning, young one," Tethtoril replied. "Your father and I were just talking about you, actually." The man shifted slightly, but not before Dorean saw Gorion taking a letter from his desk, folding and replacing it in its envelope before tucking it into his robes.

"Me? What was it, exactly, if you will forgive me asking?" he said, slowly approaching the desk. At their respective heights, both Gorion and Tethtoril tower over him.

"We were just discussing your hunt for the rodent that has been terrorizing the priest's quarters," Tethtoril replied.

Frowning, Dorean reached into the basket and drew out a large shape wrapped in brown paper.

"Oh! Well done, child. I trust it wasn't too difficult?"

"A bit more than the others were, but not too much trouble," Dorean answered. He was starting to feel awkward, and from Tethtoril's fidgeting it was mutual. After a moment, the man rubbed his hands together.

"Well, I must be going before Ulraunt decides to make inquiries as to my whereabouts." He took a few steps toward the door, paused, and leaned down to pat the dwarf on his shoulder.

"You've grown into a fine young man, Dorean. I'm proud of you."

The dwarf could only blink and look up at Tethtoril's face.

"I'll leave you two alone now. Enjoy your breakfast."

Giving his shoulder another pat, Tethtoril walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.

Turning back to look at Gorion, Dorean thought of asking him about their conversation, then decided against it. Holding the basket in both hands and over his head, he placed it on the desk and then climbed onto the chair in front of it.

"I'm ready," he said, settling comfortably into the seat.

Gorion nodded and reached down at the foot of his desk, picking up and placing a satchel on his lap. From it, he drew one of several vials, holding it out to his ward.

Taking the vial, Dorean held it up to the light. The liquid within had a slight brownish tinge.

"I remember this one." Removing the stopper, he placed his large, hooked nose over the narrow lid and sniffed. No odour, as expected. "I took it just two days ago and had no symptoms at all."

"Yes. That is why I believe you should take a slightly higher dose this time." Keeping his eyes on the vial, Gorion removed from his desk drawer a ceramic cup and spoon. "It is gaining popularity among Calishite assassins and is now likely to be mixed with other substances to mask its colour."

Dorean looked at him, nodded and reached for the cup. Gorion beat him to it, then held out his other hand for the vial. The dwarf sighed.

"Father, we've been doing this for years. Your food's getting cold."

Gorion only smiled and continued to extend his open palm. Huffing, his young ward handed him the vial.

A minute later, the vial was half-empty and Dorean was sitting back in his chair, blinking slowly and counting quietly to a hundred while Gorion stood waiting in front of him. After another minute, the dwarf looked up at him.

"Not much. A little dizzy and my vision's a bit blurry, just around the edges."

The instant he said 'vision', Gorion stooped to bring his face close and level with Dorean's, gently pulling back his eyelids. The dwarf did not lean back, calmly allowing the examination. After a moment, Gorion stood up, placing his hands on his ward's shoulders.

"If it persists, or you feel any other symptoms..."

"Drop everything and go straight to a healer, yes," Dorean finished for him. He blinked a few times, and then frowned. This close to Gorion's face, he noticed the dark circles around the wizard's eyes. _Did he sleep at all last night?_

"Father, what is wrong? What were you discussing with Tethtoril? And what was in that letter you were reading?"

Gorion simply smiled, gave his shoulders an affectionate squeeze, then stood and walked back around the desk.

"Let's have our breakfast, son."

Dorean frowned before quietly setting the dishes from the basket while Gorion brewed their morning tea. The effects of the poison still lingered and his vision was still blurry around the edges, but at least the dizziness was already receding.

"Ah, I see Imoen's made her own additions," said Gorion when Dorean removed several muffins from the basket, all with bright pink icing.

"She's as humble as ever about it too," Dorean said, unable to keep himself from smiling. "Always going on about how thin you are. I tell her it's just the robes and that you jog every morning."

Gorion chuckled, then paused when Dorean unwrapped his own dish; the rat, now stewed, salted, and accompanied by vegetables and an apple. The dwarf noticed his eyes move to the rat and then to his face. He looked down at it and back up.

"I cleaned it thoroughly before I gave it to Winthrop, and I've yet to get sick from eating one of these."

Gorion's eyes moved to his hands. "You were hurt."

The dwarf suppressed a groan; removing the bandages had done no good.

"I'm _fine_." Imoen fussing over him was bad enough; Gorion would be even worse. "The healer found no lasting damage or infection. It dosen't even hurt now. Please, father, the food's getting cold."

In the moment that passed next, Dorean thought he saw a cloud pass over Gorion's eyes, but it was gone just before he could be sure of it.

 _Maybe the poison's still messing with my vision. Might have to make a note of that._

"...you're right, yes. Your lessons will be starting in two hours. We should eat," said the wizard.

As they ate their breakfast, Dorean watched Gorion pick at his food, clearly distracted, and reflected on his own history with the man.

Gorion clearly knew more about Dorean than he had ever told him, and any inquiries from the dwarf had always been answered with a promise to tell him when he was older and ready to hear it.

It was often frustrating, sometimes infuriating, to know that Gorion had been withholding information about him from the moment they had first met. That he had always been honest about this information-withholding only made it worse and yet, in some ways, also endearing.

 _And yet I've never seen him this troubled before._

Once Dorean had finished his meal and wiped his hands on a cloth from the basket, Gorion stood up and cleared his throat almost nervously, shaking the dwarf from his thoughts.

"I have something for you."

Smiling at his ward's expression of wide-eyed surprise, Gorion reached into his desk drawer once again (Dorean and Imoen had come to suspect years ago that the dimensions within it are larger than that of the average drawer; all subsequent attempts to break into it have been in vain) and removed what was unmistakably a cloak, holding it out to the dwarf and turning it so he could see both sides; one gray, the other brown.

Gorion gave him a nod, and Dorean reached out to take the cloak, turning it over in his hands. He stopped upon seeing that from the length, it had been designed for shorter races.

"This belonged to her," said Dorean.

"Yes, it did," he heard the wizard."The last time I...met her, she told me that she wanted you to have it."

The dwarf continued to examine the gift, noting the neckline.

"This is a halfling cloak."

Gorion hesitated before answering.

"Yes, and I don't know why; she never wore it, but she had it with her. I never found out how she got it or who she may have gotten it from."

At these words, Dorean stopped examining the cloak and simply held it in his hands. He kept his eyes on it, not wanting his face to betray his emotions.

"I wish you could tell me more about her," he said, failing to mask the bitterness in his voice and hating himself for it. He did not have to look up to know of the man's reaction his words; he had seen it before.

"Thank you for this. It means a lot," he added quietly. "But why did you wait until now to give it me?"

The next moment passed in silence long enough that Dorean became worried that he may have gone too far. He was about to lift his gaze from the cloak to apologize when Gorion finally spoke.

"I felt that it would be best to give it to you when the time came to use it."

Gray eyes rose to meet blue.

"This is a travelling cloak." Dorean realized his own voice had dropped almost to a whisper.

Gorion looked away from him and slowly moved to stand at the window. His room on the 5th floor of the library was high enough to allow him a view of the Sea of Swords beyond Candlekeep's walls. The morning sunrays reflected off of his light blue robes.

After a long moment, he let out a long, drawn-out sigh.

Dorean had heard it on a few occasions, when he and Imoen had been caught or suspected of doing something highly dangerous and illegal. The longest and most pronounced one until now was after the two thieves had broken into Ulraunt's office and attempted to steal a trunk filled with wands, scrolls, rings, amulets and potions. It still remained their second-most ambitious and disastrous caper to date, and Dorean had never dared to go near Ulraunt's office again afterward.

But this was different; it sounded like one of resignation. He felt a chill run from his spine to his feet.

At last, Gorion spoke, in a voice just as resigned:

"I have reason to believe that Candlekeep may not be safe for us any longer. We will have to leave soon."

Dorean froze in his seat, both hands holding the cloak.

He had been waiting for Gorion to say those words for years. At times, he had looked forward to it; twenty years in Candlekeep without ever stepping foot outside its walls had taken their toll on him.

He had never expected to feel so _struck_ by them.

The dwarf felt his own lips move.

"How soon?"

"A few days. Perhaps three at most. I have made arrangements this past week. A few old contacts of mine have agreed to meet us a short journey away. I would prefer that they not meet us anywhere near here, in case anyone might be watching the roads to Candlekeep."

Dorean opened his mouth to ask about these contacts, but found that he could not form the words. He remained frozen in place, starring up at his foster father.

Seeing this, Gorion's expression and voice became startlingly gentle, more so than the dwarf had ever seen or heard from anyone, even Tethtoril for whom Imoen had invented several nicknames, all of which include a variant of the word 'soft'.

"You have stayed here long enough in any case, Dorean. Thirty-nine years is no age for one to be cooped up in a library." He walked around the desk and kneeled in front of Dorean's chair. Their respective heights allowed their faces to be level with each other.

"These contacts of mine are Harpers, like me. I have pledged my assistance to them in a matter they are currently looking into in exchange for their help. I have told them of you as well, and they have expressed just as much interest in meeting you as they had in seeing me again."

Dorean again tried to speak, this time to inquire further into Gorion's latest line of explanation. _Harpers? Matter? Assistance?_

Gorion gently patted his hand; the rat-bitten one. This time, the dwarf did not even wince.

"After I have paid my debt to them, perhaps I would fulfil my promise to you; we could go to Mithral Hall."

Upon hearing this, Dorean looked up, and was finally able to articulate words.

"Is Imoen coming with us?"

Gorion smiled sadly, his hand still on Dorean's.

"I do not know. That will be up to Winthrop. I will speak to him later today. I promise."

His hands again moved onto the dwarf's shoulders, and his voice dropped to a whisper.

"Remember what I told you, child; you must tell no one. Not Winthrop, not Tethtoril, not even Imoen. No one must know of our intention before we depart. This must be kept secret. You never know who might be listening."

"Are we in danger?" Dorean was surprised by how calm he sounded.

"I do not know. Perhaps not. However, if it turns out that we are, I will hasten our departure. My priority right now is your safety. Be on your guard until we leave. If you see or hear anything out of the ordinary, or you feel that someone may intend you harm, you come straight to me and no one else. No one else but me, Dorean. Do you understand?"

The dwarf nodded immediately, though slowly. The seriousness in Gorion's voice was almost overwhelming.

"Good." Gorion looked down at the cloak. "You should put that in your cupboard. Do not wear or show it to anyone."

"I'll have to put it somewhere else, Imoen keeps borrowing things from my cupboard." Dorean said automatically.

Gorion gave a short and audible laugh, his hands still on Dorean's shoulders.

"You have made good friends here. I am sorry for doing this to you, son; that you would have to leave without saying goodbye."

He leaned forward and pulled Dorean into a hug. The dwarf remained still, blinking quickly and unsure of what to do; he was still holding onto the cloak. Before he could place it onto his lap in order to return the hug, Gorion had released it. The old wizard kissed his forehead. Dorean could only blink further in response.

"I will see if I could get both of you to be excused from your chores for today. Though Your training and lessons will still be in place." He smiled warmly and stood up, releasing Dorean's shoulders.

It was only several minutes later, after he had left Gorion's room, entered his own and hidden the cloak, that Dorean finally felt the numbness fading from his mind. He recalled the last thing Gorion had said to him before he left the room.

"Imoen's working in the inn now. You have time left before your lessons. Go on, child."

Dorean usually walked the halls of Candlekeep quietly, even when not on a caper. An extended lecture and scolding from Ulraunt was enough for him to remember not to disrupt the atmosphere of quiet reading and study. Now the sounds of his boots echoed off the walls of the keep as he descended its levels, ignoring the scowls and glares of the priests, scribes and visitors.

In his room, Gorion placed the dishes, wrapping paper and food remains back in the basket. He paused upon picking up Dorean's plate.

He looked at the door through which his ward had earlier exited the room, and his eyes clouded up again; the expression that Dorean had caught but chose not to address.

 _I am sorry, child._


	2. Chapter 2

After crossing the inner grounds at a jog and trampling a few flower patches along the way, Dorean entered the inn again through the back door of the kitchen.

Most of the employees barely gave him a second glance except to give a quick greeting. Taking a pear from one of the nearby fruit bowls, he slowed his pace to a casual walk upon entering the common room, moving to his second-favourite spot in the inn; a secluded table offering a good vantage point of the area. Tossing the fruit onto the table, Dorean climbed onto the chair and turned the 'reserved' sign on the table face-down. He relaxed for a few minutes while slowly biting and chewing the pear to ensure that any potential onlookers would dismiss him as just another customer, before lifting his eyes to look around.

While he had never seen Candlekeep Inn devoid of customers, it had never been very busy. The regulars are mostly people from Beregost and Baldur's Gate who deliver orders and mail to and from the fortress.

It was easy to spot Imoen in her bright pink tunic and apron. She was easily the most distinctive person in the tavern, and certainly the most popular. Everyone in the inn seems to know her by name or face.

He watched her greet a group of men, whom he recognized as provision-deliverymen from Beregost, with a sunny disposition and cheerful smile, placing several pints on their table. Her hair had been tied into a bun similar to his, except secured with a ribbon rather than Dorean's hairpins.

He frowned at one of the men stroking Imoen's palm while tipping her a coin. She playfully smacked his hand away and walked off with a laugh.

Her head turned toward Dorean's table and with another bright smile, she skipped over to him, carrying her serving tray under her arm.

"Little brother! You're here! Thought you'd still be with Mr. G." Her eyes went to his hands and then widened. "You took off your bandages?"

"Gorion fixed them." Dorean held up and turned his hands in front of her. "See? No scars or lasting damage. And no rat fever either."

Imoen seemed to want to say something, and then deflated. "Well, just be more careful next time, alright?"

"Fine, I will," replied Dorean, dropping his hands to the table. "Did that man make a pass at you?" He inclined his head slightly in the direction of the deliverymen's table.

"Oisin?" Imoen laughed, glancing toward it. "He was just teasing. Do you know he's got a boyfriend now?"

The dwarf raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his seat. "Is he here?"

"No. He's in Beregost, waiting for his beloved to return to his welcoming arms." She hugged the serving tray to her chest.

"Hmm." Dorean's eyes moved back to the deliverymen's table while his hand went to his beard. "This boyfriend rich? Can you convince Oisin to bring him here?"

Imoen giggled, reaching over to tousle his hair. "That's my little brother! Always seeing people as nothing but bags of money and jewels!"

Dorean huffed from under her hand. "Says the kleptomaniac pickpocket."  
Removing her hand from his now-messy hair, Imoen smiled down at him. "I'll find out about this boyfriend of Oisin's, don't you worry."

Dorean nodded in approval, then seemed to remember or realize something and went quiet. Imoen tilted her head to the side. "What's the matter?"

Dorean quickly looked up. "Just thinking about something Gorion told me this morning. Your break will be here soon, right?" he added quickly.

"Yep, just as soon as I'm done with a few more orders."

"Let me help you." He put down the barely-eaten pear. "I've got nothing better to do right now anyway."

Imoen straightened, her eyes widening. "Really? You've never offered to help me in the inn before."

Dorean shrugged, drumming his fingers on the table. "Well, I am now."

Beaming, Imoen removed a few small sheets of parchment from her apron pocket.

"What are those?"

"It's a new thing going on in Baldur's Gate," Imoen answered, handing him one and replacing the others in her apron. "Order slips, they're called. You write down the customer's order and sign it once it's done."

Dorean snorted. "Like they're even necessary in a place like this. It's hardly ever crowded in here."

Imoen shrugged, holding her serving tray against her stomach with both hands. "Well, you know how much my da likes keeping his inn all high standards-wise."

 _He takes an awful lot of pride in something he didn't pay for_ , Dorean thought. He hopped off his chair and walked around the table, looking at the parchment in his hand. "Alright, I'll see you back here when I'm done with this."

Imoen leaned down and gave him a one-armed hug, her serving tray bumping against his chest. Dorean straightened irritably.

"Imoen, what did I tell you about public displays of affection?" he said, his voice muffled.

"That they're always welcome and heartily encouraged?" Imoen grinned. She released the hug and turned in the direction of the side corridor leading to the kitchen.

Dorean sighed. "Yes, that, only the exact opposite."

Leaving the pear on the table, he followed her at a steady walk in contrast to her cheerful skip.

* * *

 _You fool. How could you have forgotten that you were leaving?_

His mind preoccupied, Dorean did not realize who his customer was until he had moved directly in front of his table. He looked up and almost immediately recognized the green-and-gold robes.

Firebead Elvenhair, wizard and scholar from Beregost, was sitting at a table by the fireplace. He had a book in front of him and was writing in it with a quill pen.

Dorean paused with serving tray in hand, then lifted his head up further to speak.

"Good morning, Mister Elvenhair."

Firebead looked up from his book. "Oh! Good morning, young man." His brow furrowed. "Am I correct in saying you are a man? You have facial hair, but you are also quite short."

"That's because I'm a dwarf, Mister Elvenhair," Dorean answered mildly.

"Oh, my apologies. A dwarf? I don't recall meeting many dwarves here. Then again, it has been such a long time since my last visit to Candlekeep. Much may have changed since then."

"Yes," said Dorean, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "The hen in our farm gave birth to two more chicks."

He moved around the table to Firebead's right side, noticing the pack on the chair next to his seat.

"If you do not mind me asking, Mister Elvenhair, what brings you to Candlekeep this time?"

"Oh, study, mostly," replied the wizard, waving his quill pen. "You can never be too old for an education, you know, and there few better places for that in Faerûn than in Candlekeep."

"Of course," said the dwarf. He could barely see the book due to his height, but he did not have to in order to know its purpose. Firebead is a wizard, after all. "None better. Please forgive my further curiosity, Mister Elvenhair," he paused to bow his head. "If I may be so bold as to ask, what subjects at present hold your attention that you are now studying in Candlekeep?"

"Well, aren't you a inquisitive and polite one," smiled Firebead. "If only more of the bearded folk were like you, young man. The last dwarf I met was rather a crass fellow in comparism, if you'll pardon my language."

Leaning on his left elbow, the wizard tickled his chin with the feathered end of the quill pen. "At present, I am studying manuscripts in regards to the nation of Tethyr in the south, specifically its Forest known to some as the Wealdath. I would love to visit the city of Suldanessellar. I hear it is a wondrous place, built high up in the trees of the forest."

He looked up and smiled. "Imagine what knowledge could be gained in such a place." The old man exhaled through his nose in a good-natured sigh. "Unfortunately, wood elves are wary of foreigners and I suspect I would not be welcome in their city. And of course there's the civil war going on. A pity, that."

"Yes, a pity," said Dorean. _Books on Tethyr. That's the second floor._

"Well, I am not letting that stop me," declared Firebead, puffing out his chest slightly. "It's going to take more than a little civil war and unfriendly customs to stop Firebead Elvenhair, I'll tell you that." He pumped a fist in the air (Dorean's eyes went to the rings in it) and then lowered it. "Though it would of course help to learn about the culture of a people before one visits them in their own home."

"I agree, Mister Elvenhair," said Dorean. The wizard was now tapping the feathered end of the quill pen against his chin and his eyes were turned upward instead of at him. The dwarf's body now stood between Firebead and his pack.

"I may have to delay this prospective visit before making the journey south, though," Firebead continued as though Dorean had not spoken. "There's been rumours in Beregost of trouble brewing between Baldur's Gate and Amn."

"Rumors of trouble, sir?" said Dorean. Keeping one hand on the serving tray, he reached behind him with his other hand into the pack, grasped and removed the first item he touched and then quickly tucked it into his tunic, all in the span of a few seconds. From the feel of it, he had taken another one of Firebead's ink bottles.

"Yes, and they aren't just rumours, it turns out. The Coast Way has become quite dangerous to travel nowadays. Why, even my journey from Beregost to here was rather hazardous."

Reaching into the pack behind him a second time, Dorean paused despite himself, now genuinely curious. "Were you attacked on your way here?"

Firebead seemed to hesitate at Dorean's question (or perhaps momentarily forget it), his eyes still facing the far wall, before answering.

"Oh, nothing worth speaking of. Still, the roads are no longer as safe as they used to be."

Realizing that his hand was still in the man's pack, Dorean quickly grasped another item, removing it from the pack and placing it in his tunic along with the ink bottle. _Small, round and hollow. Probably a ring._

Feeling that he had stood there long enough, the dwarf took the pint of cow's milk from the serving tray and placed it on the table.

"Thank you, young man," said Firebead, lifting his elbow off the table and leaning back in his seat to look at him. "You are Gorion's ward, aren't you? Dorothy, was it?"

"Dorean, Mister Elvenhair," the dwarf corrected politely, quietly grinding his teeth behind his smile.

"Well, you have certainly come into your own, if you do not mind me saying."

"Not at all, sir," Dorean replied mechanically; he had heard this before from the old wizard.

"Well, _Dorean_ ," said Firebead, stretching out the pronounciation of the dwarf's name with a nod of his head, "Thank you for indulging an old man in his long-winded ramblings, and politely too. And thank you for the drink, as well." He took a sip from the tankard, leaving a white line on his moustache.

"It was a pleasure to listen to you, sir," said Dorean. Reaching into the pack again, he grasped something he immediately recognized as a coin pouch.

"Well, you deserve a tip nonetheless," said the wizard, taking a coin from one of his many belt pouches.

Not expecting this, and with his other hand still holding the serving tray, Dorean fumbled to release the pouch in his hand. There was a _clink_ as it landed on the floor under the table.

Firebead stopped with coin in hand, turning his head to look around. "Did you hear that?"

"I kicked something, sir," Dorean said quickly, keeping his voice calm. "I think someone dropped their coin pouch here."

Firebead stooped to look down at it. "Is that so? Could it be mine?" He scratched his temple. "Oh, I can't ever keep track of my things, I seem to lose them all over the place."

Dorean hesitated for a second.

 _You'll be leaving soon anyway._

"I doubt it's yours, Mister Elvenhair. After all, isn't that your coin pouch right there on your belt?"

The wizard looked at where the dwarf was pointing.

"Oh! So it is. Someone else must have lost their money, then."

Dorean bent down and grabbed the pouch off the ground. "I'll just bring it to Mister Winthrop, then. He would know who's been at this table." He stepped back from the table. "I hope you will enjoy your time here, Mister Elvenhair."

The old wizard smiled and raised his hand in a wave. It seemed he had already forgotten about giving Dorean a tip. "I will, young man, and thank you again."

With a small bow of his head, Dorean turned around and walked away, maintaining a casual and relaxed pace while tucking the coin pouch into his tunic on top of the ring and ink bottle.

* * *

After signing and turning in the order slip along with the serving tray, Dorean returned to his table where Imoen was waiting for him, twirling the 'reserved sign' in the fingers of her right hand. Noticing her disapproving frown, he kept his voice low as he climbed onto the chair beside her. "Did anyone else see me?"

"No, but ain't why I'm peeved," Imoen whispered. She put down the sign and leaned toward and over him. "You gotta stop doing that. He's so convinced now that his memory's gone all wonky, he's writing notes to himself for everything."

"It was that or have him realize he's being robbed every time he comes here," Dorean replied. He looked around the table for the pear and spotted it in Imoen's left hand. "If he can afford to visit Candlekeep repeatedly, he's not going to miss what I take from him." The dwarf held his hand out. When Imoen did not budge, he dropped it to the table, glared at her and then exhaled deeply through his nose.

"Fine, I'll stop. No more stealing from him."

Imoen gave a triumphant smile and handed him the fruit. It was now half-eaten. Dorean looked at it, frowned up at her, and then rolled his eyes and took a bite.

"You see anyone interesting while I was busy with Firebead?" he said between chews.

"Let's see that reimbursement you promised me. Four gold." Imoen extended her hand in a manner reminiscent of Winthrop. "And you shouldn't talk with your mouth full."

"Winthrop found two marks?" the dwarf asked, ignoring her reproach while removing the money from his coin pouch and placing it in her palm.

"Oh, he did, alright," Imoen answered, grinning. She pointed with her chin over Dorean's head. "See those two over by the fire?"

Dorean slowly turned his head while adjusting his seated position in the chair, as though he were merely making himself more comfortable.

Even from across the common room, it was easy to determine that the man and woman sitting by the fireplace in Candlekeep Inn's lounge were the ones Imoen was pointing out. Both of them were dressed in bright gold-coloured fine clothing, and Dorean blinked at the sheen of silver reflecting off of the woman's dress.

"They arrived this morning while you were having breakfast with Mr. G," said Imoen. "Said they'd come here to enjoy the peace and quiet. Didn't have a book with them, but Ulraunt let them in anyway."

Dorean snorted, keeping his eyes on the couple. "He's always been a stickler for the rules except when it's his turn to follow them." He took another bite from the pear. "Did Winthrop find out how much they paid to get in here?"

"Five thousand gold. And that's not all." The excitement in Imoen's voice was palpable, and it made Dorean turn around to look at her. The girl's face was flushed almost as pink as her clothing, and she was grinning from ear to ear. "Puffguts gave his usual joke, about Candlekeep Inn having a custom booking fee of ten thousand."

Dorean paused, looking at her wide grin. His eyes widened and jaw dropped. "You're joking."

"Nope," Imoen said, shaking her head. "They paid it all. Didn't even ask any questions, just dumped the money on the counter. You should have seen my dad's face, he was lucky they were looking around the inn and not at him."

Dorean starred at her, then turned to look back at the couple in the lounge. "They have got to be the richest and dumbest people to have ever come to this place.

"Yeah," Imoen agreed. Her grin faded as she thought of something. "I hope Ulraunt doesn't find out about this."

"I doubt anything would happen if he did," Dorean replied. He looked toward the bar where Winthrop was instructing the barmaid. "If Ulraunt had any hold on your father, he would have tightened it a long time ago."

"I suppose so. Hey, take a look at her chest. You see what she's got pinned on it?"

Holding back an urge to comment on her attention span, Dorean looked back at the couple and narrowed his eyes, which widened seconds later. He then turned back to Imoen who nodded slowly at him. The dwarf began to wonder if her face might be hurting from her grin.

"This could be our biggest steal yet, little brother. Like you said, people that stinking rich won't be too badly off from us nicking a few of their things."

"I am glad that you are so quick to get on board with my outlook in the prospect of great wealth," Dorean answered, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

"And I am glad that you are glad!" Imoen replied, laughing. She leaned over and hugged him around the head, momentarily smothering him and almost making him drop the pear. When he did not immediately attempt to push her away, she frowned and released him, leaning back to look at his face.

Seeing this, Dorean spoke up quickly. "So, you got their room number?"

"Hm? Oh yeah. Royal suite, fifth floor. Hey, come on," she added upon seeing his face fall, "they paid ten thousand gold to stay here! Dad felt he needed to keep up appearances!"

"Well, he just made our job a lot harder," replied the dwarf, looking over at Winthrop. After taking a moment to leer at the innkeeper, he turned his gaze back to the couple. "Anyway, if we want to get that gem, we'll have to find some way other than simply taking it off of her; she or her husband may notice in seconds that it is missing if we try that."

Imoen leaned sideways behind him, lowering her voice further into a conspiratorial whisper. "We could wait for her to take it off."

Dorean shook his head. "Maybe, but I don't like it. Probably the only time she'll remove something that valuable would be to keep it in her room." He stroked his beard. "And likely the only reason she would, is if she and her husband are _in_ the room. I don't want us trying to break into a Royal suite with people still inside. We learnt that lesson the hard way."

"Did we ever," agreed Imoen. Her eyebrows furrowed and her lips pursed in thought. After a moment, she tapped Dorean on the shoulder. "I've got an idea."

The dwarf hesitated before turning around to look at her with a frown. "I don't like it. You sure you want them to see and remember our faces?"

"You sure you don't wanna get yer hands on the most valuable thing you've ever laid your eyes on?" Imoen countered, placing her elbow on the table and leaning on it, smirking at him.

Dorean huffed, looking up at her.

 _She really does take after her father._

"Meek and Pink?"

"Meek and Pink," Imoen repeated cheerfully. She hopped off of her chair and walked around the table, offering him her hand. Rolling his eyes, the dwarf took it, allowing her to 'help' him off his own seat.

Imoen held her head high while Dorean lowered his, and together they walked with the dwarf shuffling his feet and trailing slightly behind the pink-clad girl while holding onto her hand.

* * *

As they entered the lounge, Dorean wrinkled his nose at the smell of perfume emanating from both the nobleman and his wife, neither of whom noticed the young duo approaching.

When they had gotten several feet behind the couple, Imoen stepped forward, back straight with her hands clasped behind her back, while Dorean stood a single pace behind her with his head bowed, shoulders slouched backwards and his hands at his side.

"Good morning to you, milord and lady!" said Imoen. The couple turned around quickly in surprise, their eyes widening at the sight of the bright-pink-clad girl and dirty-yellow-clad dwarf before them. "Please allow me to welcome you to Candlekeep Inn." She gave a curtsy. "I am Imoen, humble worker of this here establishment, and this is my little brother Dorean," she indicated the dwarf behind her and off to her side, who bowed his head even lower than before. The pink girl resumed her straight-backed, hands-clasped posture, her smile radiating sunshine, green meadows, flowers and butterflies.

 _Is this where we both break into song?_ Dorean thought, keeping his nose pointed toward his own boots.

Nobleman and woman blinked, looked at each other, then smiled and visibly relaxed.

"A good morning to you as well, young lady," said the nobleman. "I must say, this is the warmest welcome we have received since we arrived here. The monks and priests have not been nearly as hospitable as I had hoped they would be. Haven't they, Lovey?" He added, turning to his wife. The red-dyed feather in his golden hat quivered.

"Oh yes, darling, they have been _most_ stand-offish," agreed the noblewoman. Even with his head bowed, Dorean had to squint; the firelight reflecting off her jewellery was in turn being reflected off the polished floorboards.

"One would think we had been uncouth toward them, judging by their reception, when it is most certainly not the case." She lifted her nose in the air, then lowered it as her gaze rested on the dwarf. The woman blinked slowly, her long eyelashes fluttering. "Pardon me, young lady, but did you just introduce this person as your...brother?" She tilted her head to the side, and Dorean had to close his eyes to avoid being blinded by the increased intensity of the sheen being reflected off the floor.

 _Damn Winthrop and his high standards._

"Yes, milady," replied Imoen, curtsying again. "We were both orphans you see, until Mister Winthrop came along and adopted us. He has cared for and loved us like we were his own children to this day."

Keeping his head down, Dorean managed to resist the snort bubbling from his stomach to his mouth from escaping, settling instead for a quiet sneer.

"Please forgive my little brother, milady, milord." Imoen added, placing a hand on Dorean's shoulder. "Alas, he is unaccustomed to being subject to the presence and scrutiny of noble persons such as yourselves." She gave his shoulder a squeeze. "I am sorry to say that not every guest who has stayed within these walls have treated him with the same kindness as you have. Some do not enjoy being served by dwarves, you see." She lowered her eyelids and gave a small smile as she looked down at Dorean. "But he's really just a shy, humble boy." She patted the dwarf gently on the top of his head and tousled his hair, then looked up to see that the noblewoman's puzzled expression had softened considerably. She now looked teary-eyed, and had placed a satin-gloved hand to her chest.

"Thurston, darling, give the boy some money," she said, looking Dorean up and down, which wasn't much considering his height. "Look at him, the poor dear. I have never seen a dwarf so thin!"

"Neither have I, Lovey," agreed the nobleman, reaching into one of the several coin pouches at his belt.

"Oh, milord, milady, we could not!" Imoen exclaimed, raising her hands. "It will be most improper for us to accept any money from you without providing our services beforehand!"

"Why, don't be ridiculous, little girl," replied the noblewoman. Imoen fought an urge to giggle. From up close, she could see, despite the make-up, that the woman could not be more than a few years older than herself. "A handful of coin will not inconvenience us, and will certainly do more good in your hands than in ours. And you _have_ done us a service, young one; by showing us that there is yet warmth and caring to be found in this cold and harsh place."

Imoen and Dorean silently glanced at each other.

"Well said, Nessa, my love!" declared Thurston, his hat-feather now quivering almost violently. "Let it not be declared anywhere that Thurston of Baldur's Gate is without compassion!" He stepped forward with money in hand, then stepped back. "What is the matter, boy? Why are you shaking?"

"Oh, urm," Imoen said hurriedly, her lips pressed tight together and her back ramrod straight. "My, my brother's just overcome by, by shock, mi-milord. No one has ever shown him such generosity since Mister Winthrop adopted us." She twisted her own fingers painfully behind her back and bumped Dorean in the shoulder with her hip. The noblewoman placed both hands to her chest, her eyes now definitely teary.

Imoen looked back down at Dorean, who had brought his head up slightly to glance at the coins in Thurston's palm.

"Go on, little brother," Imoen said gently, patting and pushing him slightly at the shoulder. _Do not laugh do not laugh for Oghma's sake do not laugh..._

The dwarf's eyes widened and he looked up at her, then at Thurston's money, and then back to her. He shook his head rapidly from side to side.

Thurston blinked and then his back straightened. His expression became stern. "Come here, boy." His tone brooked neither protest nor argument.

His head bowed low, Dorean shuffled forward until he was standing in front of the nobleman.

"Now take the money," Thurston commanded, holding out the gold coins.

Dorean 'hesitated' for several seconds, his hands held up in front of and close to his chest, before reaching forward with a trembling hand and grasping the money. His arms shot back to his sides.

"Say thank you to Lord Thurston, little brother," said Imoen from behind him. The dwarf bowed his head low once more.

"...'ank ye, me lord Thirst-tun."

He slowly walked backward to resume standing behind and next to Imoen before lifting his head to regard the two nobles with a bright, smiling expression of 'gratitude' and 'awe'. The couple seemed to preen at it, appearing taller and straighter.

Trying not to look at his face, Imoen tousled Dorean's now-messy hair yet again. "You've worked hard enough for now, little brother. Why don't you take a break?"

Big, wide gray eyes looked up at her, and Imoen bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing. "Go on," she said.

With another low bow to Thurston and Nessa, Dorean took a few steps backward before turning and walking quickly from the lounge.

* * *

As soon as he had turned the corner of the doorway exit from the lounge, Dorean slowed his pace down to a casual walk as he entered the side corridor to the kitchen, placing Thurston's money in his coin pouch and adjusting Firebead's stolen items in his tunic.

He entered the kitchen, ignoring the employees as usual, and headed for his usual spot at the counter near the back door.

"Dorean, lad!"

The dwarf blinked and then frowned, though he did not slow his walk toward the counter; Winthrop was sitting on his chair.

The innkeeper lowered his voice as the dwarf approached, leaning down toward him. "So how did it go with our vacationing couple?"

"I'll have to wait for Imoen, she's with them now." Dorean's frown deepened. "You could have warned her about the name."

Winthrop quickly covered his mouth to hide his wide, toothy grin, and his body shook with suppressed laughter. "Sorry! I forgot!" The dwarf's intense glare only made him laugh harder. "Honestly, I did! Please forgive me! That Thurston dumped a bag full o' money on me counter and my mind just slipped!" He waggled his large arms in the air, nearly concussing a passing employee.

"We almost gave the game away because of you," Dorean growled. "I had to bite down on my tongue. It _hurt_."

"I'll make it up to ye, my friend," Winthrop said, lightly slapping Dorean on the side of his shoulder. He staggered sideways, regained his balance and rubbed his shoulder. "In the meantime, do ye mind doing me a little favour?"

Dorean looked up at him. From his seated position on the chair and also from leaning over him, the innkeeper's shadow almost entirely covered the dwarf. "Is this likely to end like the last time I did a favour for you?"

"No, no, nothing like that, I promise," replied Winthrop, waving his hand. "I'd like you to take one quick order for a couple of customers. Just bring two drinks over to them, and that's it."

"That's it?" Dorean repeated, his voice emitting suspicion.

"Weell," Winthrop rubbed the back of his bald head. "These newcomers are of, how should I say, disreputable appearance."

"What are people like that doing here?" Dorean asked, placing his hands on his hips.

"Beats me," answered Winthrop, shrugging his broad shoulders. "They weren't in a very conversational mood when they first walked in here. Were right behind Thurston and his wife, actually. Anyway, they've been sitting at their table since they arrived ten minutes ago, and none of the waitresses are willing to go near them."

Dorean raised his eyebrow. "And you thought I'd be closer to their type."

"No! Well, yes, but you know what I mean." Winthrop took a deep breath, exhaled it and continued with a wave of his hand. "What I mean is, you're made of sterner stuff than my people. You wouldn't be scared of those two. I'll pay ye one gold," he added upon seeing the suspicion on Dorean's face.

A moment passed between them before Dorean blinked and then nodded, running both hands through his chestnut brown hair. "Alright, give me the order. And that'll be two gold."

Winthrop gave a slow, wide smile. "A man after me own heart." He took the coins out of his apron pocket and dropped them into Dorean's palm. "Ye really are Gorion's ward."

Dorean looked up at him, his eyes narrowing. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Winthrop shrugged, still wearing the smile. "Just that you're a good negotiator, is all. Gorion taught ye well, didn't he?"

Dorean paused, studying the innkeeper's round, unassuming face. "Yes, he did." He pocketed the coins. "So, the orders?"

"Right there." Winthrop pointed at the table directly behind Dorean, on which sat two full tankards in a serving tray. The dwarf reached up and took the order slip from under the tray.

"You know these things are just a waste of parchment," he said, noting the table number.

"Well, anything to piss off Ulraunt, right?"

Dorean looked up. Winthrop's face had crinkled into a lopsided grin, and his eyes shined mischievously. After a moment, he returned the smile.

"Yeah. A man after my own heart," he said. "You really are Imoen's father."

As he exited the kitchen with the serving tray gripped in both hands, Dorean's forehead furrowed.

 _Thugs and ruffians aren't usually allowed entry into Candlekeep. What is going on here?_

* * *

It became apparent to Dorean, upon approaching and then standing in front of the table, as to why the waitresses were reluctant to do the same; the two men seated at it clearly suited Winthrop's label of being of 'disreputable appearance.'

The one on the left had a nose that looks like it had been broken at least twice, while his thinner and shorter companion had a scar trailing from cheek to chin that Dorean suspected may have been from a broken bottle.

 _Probably got them from tavern brawling._

"Here you are, sirs," said the dwarf, reaching up to place the tray on the table. "Two bitter black ales."

"Thanks," said Broken Nose, lifting the tankard nearer to him off of the tray and taking a long draught.

"Aye, thank ye kindly," said the other. He produced two grimy coins from the thin, worn pouch at his waist and placed them at the edge of the table.

Dorean took the money and signed the order slip, then looked up at the sound of Broken Nose putting his tankard down with a _thunk_ , inhaling gutturally and then giving a loud belch that drew stares from the nearby tables. The man looked down to return the dwarf's stare.

"Abou' time," he muttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Hadda wait damn near five minutes 'afore someone came to take our order, and another damn five minutes after that 'afore you showed up."

"Now, now, cousin," said the other man, raising his hand in a calming gesture. "Let's not be rude now, y'hear? Do you emember what happened the last time we were rude? Do you?"

The cousin huffed and continued to mutter into his beer, glowering down at Dorean. Resisting an urge to raise his eyebrow, Dorean settled for blinking twice instead. He stepped back from the table and gave a bow.

"I apologize for the delay in serving you gentlemen, and for any dissatisfaction it may have caused. If you would suggest a way in which Candlekeep Inn could make it up to you, I shall do my best to ensure that Mister Winthrop will see to it immediately."

"You could get us s'more ale fer free, _immediately_ ," came the quick and mocking reply from his left.

"Now, cousin," said the thin one again, his tone becoming sharper. He turned to face Dorean better. "Actually, there is a way you could do that. You see, we are new to this here place; Candlekeep, that what it's called? And we'd like to know more about it from someone who works or lives here."

Dorean blinked and then nodded. "Would you like me to get a guide for you, then? There are many monks and readers who would be happy to do that."

 _Though I doubt either of them could read._

"Well," answered the thin one, "We would prefer if you could simply chat with us fer a minute 'a two. We have travelled quite a ways from our home city, an' had little in the way of pleasant conversation." He gave a short laugh that sounded more to Dorean like a neigh. "It seems no one else here would like to talk to us."

"Damn straight," agreed the cousin.

"We'll buy ye a drink, my friend. Just a few minutes of yer time. What do ye say?"

In the moment that passed next, several thoughts raced through Dorean's head.

 _Accept or refuse? Imoen may be waiting for me now, or she could need my help with the nobles. And our lessons will be starting soon. But I still want to know more about these two..._

The dwarf nodded, smiling up at them. "It would be my pleasure, good sirs."

"And ours, too," replied the thin man, scooting in his seat to make room for Dorean. The dwarf climbed onto it while the thin man signalled to a waitress, who eyed him nervously and Dorean with suspicion. "Oi! A drink for me friend here."

"I'll just have a fruit juice," Dorean said to her. After she had turned and left for the bar, Dorean looked away from her to see that both men were now regarding him with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

"The ale here too strong fer ye?" asked Broken Nose, leering at him.

"I wouldn't know. I don't drink," Dorean answered, smiling back.

"A dwarf who doesn't drink?" said the man. "Heh. That's a new one," He took another draught from his pint.

"Please don't mind him, my friend," said the thin one. "He's always been lacking in social graces."

"It's fine," said Dorean, maintaining his smile. "Makes a nice change from the stiffs and fops around here."

"Knew I'd like you as soon as I clapped eyes on ye." The thin man grinned at him, raising and spreading his hands.

"Allow me to introduce meself and my cousin. I am Shank Gwist and this lout here's Carbos. We were hired to ensure the safety and well-bee-in' of yonder couple o'er there." He pointed in the direction of the lounge which, Dorean now realized, their table stood less than ten paces away from the entrance.

The dwarf hesitated for a full second before he spoke. "So you're serving as bodyguards to Lord Thurston and Lady Nessa."

"Heh. Aye," replied Shank. "We came across them in Baldur's Gate. That's the big city up north. They'd heard of the trouble goin' on along the Coast and thought they might need protection on their way to Candlekeep. So me and Carbos here up and offered our services."

Dorean raised his eyebrow. "You just walked up to them and said that you're professional bodyguards?"

"No, well, not exactly," replied Shank. "See, we were lookin' to head down south ourselves; heard there was a lotta work fer folks like us. And we jus' happened to be passing by when they saw us, called us over, asked if we know how to fight an' all that. Next thing we know, boom," he snapped his fingers. Dorean noticed that the pinky was missing. "We're followin' and guardin' 'em all the way to this here castle on the cliffside."

Dorean's other eyebrow rose. "Just like that?"

Carbos laughed in a series of short grunts that made Dorean think of chickens. "Aye, jus' like that. Pay's ten gold per day, they gave us the first ten on da spot. Easiest job we ever got." He grinned, revealing a set of yellowed, broken teeth.

Dorean slowly nodded, glancing toward the lounge where he could still see the glint of jewellery.

 _Money really does bleed good sense and judgement._

At that moment, the waitress arrived with his drink. Noticing her nervous glances at the two men, along with Carbos leering at her, Dorean silently paid her with a coin and a nod. She turned hurriedly and scurried away.

"Did you encounter any trouble along the way here?" he asked, as though they had not been interrupted.

"Oh, nothing we couldn't handle," replied Shank, drumming his fingers on the table and scratching the stubble at his chin. "Wasn't any real trouble, really, since us and the nobles were part of a caravan."

"Had an armed escort an' everythin'," chimed in Carbos, his voice now slightly slurred. Dorean glanced at his tankard. It was now empty. "Led by a dwarf," he added, tilting his head as his leer now focused from the waitress to Dorean. "Had armour, a winged helmet and a big white beard." He paused to belch again, drawing more glares. "Looked nothin' like you."

Dorean gave a smile that did not reach his eyes. "Not all dwarves are the same, you know."

"No, they're not," agreed Shank. "But especially not you." He tapped his fingers along the lid of his tankard. "You don't talk much like a dwarf."

Dorean turned his head to look Shank in the eye, and then Carbos. Both men were now staring at him. His eyes darted between them.

"Well, what do dwarves usually sound like?" he asked, keeping his voice calm and both of his hands on the table.

Carbos lifted his head and tapped his chin. "Drinkin', belchin', fightin'?"

Dorean smiled and cocked his head. "So, like you, then?"

Shank threw back his head and neighed while Carbos scowled at the dwarf. "He's got ye down pat, cousin!" Shaking his head and smiling, he took another sip of ale.

A flash of bright pink appeared in the corner of Dorean's vision, and he turned to see Imoen standing at the bar and waving to him. Her eyes moved to his drinking companions.

"Well, gentlemen," said the dwarf, leaning back in his seat. "It's been a pleasure, but I am afraid I must return to my duties."

"O' course," replied Shank, raising his pint to him. "Nice talkin' with ye."

It was only when he was following Imoen out of the main entrance to the inn that Dorean realized something.

 _They didn't ask any questions about Candlekeep._

* * *

Imoen did not speak until they had entered the inner grounds, though she gave several confused and concerned looks at him along the way.

"Puffguts told me about sending you to serve them rough-lookin' customers of his. I gave him a real earful for that. What were you doing sitting with them?"

"They asked me to. Said they wanted someone to talk to," Dorean answered. "And it's a good thing I did." Despite his short legs, the dwarf easily kept up with her steady pace. "Imoen, Thurston's a no-go."

"What, why!?" Imoen wailed, stopping abruptly and turning to him. "I convinced them to leave all their valuables in their room! It must have taken me three minutes, I had to give them so many hints! And did you see Nessa? She's practically a walking treasury!"

"They've got bodyguards, and not the polite kind, either."

Imoen frowned and tilted her head to the side. "You mean _those_ two, the ones you were chatting with?" She blinked under her frown. "Why would anyone hire _them_? They're obviously scoundrels!"

" _We're_ scoundrels too, and they believed everything we said, didn't they?"

"That's because I am an amazing actress!" Imoen declared, placing her hands on her hips and raising her chin.

"Uh huh," Dorean said dryly. "That, or Thurston and his wife are even stupider than we thought." He looked off to the side, noticing a nearby gardener repairing the flower patches that he had trampled earlier. "Regardless, the steal's off."

"Oh, come on, Dorean, we paid four gold for this," Imoen protested. "It's not like they will all be stayin' in the same room."

"We've never had to deal with bodyguards before, and at least one of them seems dumb enough not to care about Candlekeep's rules of non-violence," the dwarf hissed. "And there's now a much higher chance we'll be remembered if they realize they've been robbed. It's just too risky now."

Imoen leaned forward and prodded his nose. "We've taken bigger risks than this, and you know it, little brother." Dorean scowled and batted her hand away. "This could be our biggest haul yet."

"The last time you said that and I went along with it, we both nearly _died_."

Imoen threw her hands up. "I learnt my lesson, okay!?" A moment passed in silence and mutual stares before she spoke again, her voice more composed. "Besides, this is different. What's the worst that could happen?"

"We get caught and killed before the watchers can stop them," Dorean answered grimly, glaring at the gardener who quietly averted her gaze and returned to her work. Imoen winced.

"Gee, way to keep a positive attitude, little brother."

Dorean groaned, rubbing his forehead. He felt a hand on his head, although this time she did not tousle his hair.

"It won't be like that time. We'll just be sneaking into an empty inn room and then out again." She paused. "And you'll be in charge. Anything worries you even a little bit and you say we stop, I'll follow you, I swear." She smiled down at him. "I saw that look in your eyes when you spied that gem, little brother."

Dorean glowered up at her from below her hand and then sighed. Imoen blinked and tilted her head again when she saw that his expression had seemed to soften.

"I could never say no to you, can I?" he said, his voice filled with resignation.

"Hee!" Imoen pulled him close for a hug, then blinked again when no words or gestures of protest came from the dwarf. She raised her chin from his head and looked down at him.

Dorean looked at her face, his expression pensive, and then gently pushed her off.

"Come on. We're going to be late for our lessons."

He turned and walked away in the direction of the keep entrance. Imoen watched him for a moment before jogging up to walk beside him.


	3. Chapter 3

He was looking up at a dark ceiling. Something was carrying him, and he turned his head. Like everything else, its face was obscured by the fog. He was being borne in its arms, and from the slow, echoing footfalls below, it was taking him somewhere.

The footfalls stopped, and he felt it gently lay him on a cold, hard surface. He then saw a face. It loomed over him, whispering words he could not hear.

The fog seemed to be lifting now. He could make out more of the face. Round, square jaw, and a big nose separating two eyes.

Gray eyes.

He reached out with a trembling hand towards them.

The face morphed from round and bare to thin and bearded, and the eyes from gray to blue.

Dorean blinked, dropping his hand to the bed as his vision became clear. From the look of the ceiling, it took him only a second to realize that he was now in Candlekeep's clinic.

"Try not to move too much," said the gentle voice of his foster father.

Placing his elbows on the bed, Dorean slowly pushed himself upright. He winced as a wave of pain flowed from his head to his waist. A hand to his temple confirmed that it had been bandaged.

"What happened in there? I thought those monsters were supposed to be illusions."

"Arkanis' axe was real enough," explained Gorion. Placing a hand on Dorean's chest, he gently but firmly pushed him back onto the bed. "You were caught in its follow-through."

The dwarf sighed, keeping his eyes closed and his hand on his forehead. "I got too close to him, didn't I?"

"That was your first time in such training," said Gorion reassuringly, causing Dorean to grimace. "The fault is on me; I should have known it would be dangerous to put you in mock battles without having you go through the basics first."

"Even an idiot should know better than to get too close to an axe-wielder," Dorean snapped, opening his eyes to look at Gorion. He winced, closing them again as another wave of pain rushed through his head. "Besides, it made sense to push it forward. We may be in real danger soon enough."

When no answer came, Dorean opened his eyes to look up at Gorion. The old wizard's face was doleful and his eyes were on the dwarf's bandaged head. Dorean's expression softened, and, noticing Gorion's hand on the bed beside him, reached out to place his own hand on it.

"You need to stop blaming yourself for my mistakes."

"You could have been killed," Gorion said quietly.

 _Not nearly as close as that time in the catacombs_ , Dorean nearly answered. He stopped himself in time, remembering how Gorion had reacted afterwards. The silence stretched out awkwardly for a moment as both men avoided each other's eyes. Dorean struggled to find something to say.

"What time is it?"

Gorion looked back down at him. "It is now late in the afternoon, approaching evening." He paused. "Arkanis carried you in here. He kept apologizing for what happened. I told him not to worry, and that you'll understand it was an accident."

A shadow seemed to pass over Dorean's face, but only for a few seconds. "I understand." He sat up slowly again, looking around the room. "Where's Imoen? I thought she'd be in here with you."

Gorion smiled. "She came shortly after you were brought in. In her rush to reach your side, she knocked over the healer and he dropped the money I gave him all over the floor."

Dorean chuckled, then stopped and looked at Gorion. "Where is she now?"

"She's...working an extra shift at the inn."

Dorean gazed into the old wizard's eyes before looking away and lowering his head. The dwarf's face became stolid and his voice a deadpan.

"He said no."

Gorion closed his eyes for a moment. His hands rested on his lap and he looked despondently at the wall.

The silence that followed, during which neither of them moved, was almost painful. The pain in Dorean's head seemed to be far away now, replaced with a cold sensation in his chest.

"I did the best I could," Gorion said abruptly and quietly. "I told him that she would be safe with us, and that I would protect her with my life as I would for yours. He wouldn't budge."

Several more seconds passed before Dorean spoke, again deadpanned.

"He say why?"

Next to him, Gorion slowly blinked twice before seeming to nod slightly to himself. "I think it would be better if you hear it from him yourself," he said gently. Dorean turned his head slightly towards him, though not enough to make eye contact. "He agreed to provide us with whatever we may need for our journey."

Dorean slowly turned his face a few inches toward Gorion, still not meeting his eyes.

"'Agreed.'" His voice had gone from deadpan to downright emotionless. Gorion kept his eyes averted from the dwarf's. His fingers bunched up in his lap, digging into the folds of his blue robes.

Dorean did not speak, yet the accusation passed between them nonetheless.

 _You knew from the start that he would never allow it, even before you promised me._

The silence and stillness in the room seemed to stretch on for hours, though it had to in fact have been but a minute, before Gorion finally stood up from the chair.

"I need to go. Ulraunt wants to speak to me about your training with Obe." He finally managed to turn his eyes onto Dorean. "Will you be alright?" he asked gently.

"I'll be fine," Dorean answered. The coldness in his voice, though still present, receded slightly. "Thank you, father." The old wizard looked at him for a moment, then gently patted and stroked the dwarf's hair before turning toward the door.

He had his hand on the knob when Dorean spoke again.

"I dreamed of her."

Gorion's head snapped around to face Dorean. The dwarf showed no surprise at this.

"At least, I think it was her." His voice and face was as before in Gorion's room; calm and collected. His eyes spoke differently. "She had the same face-shape and eye colour as mine."

He noticed that Gorion's hand had tightened on the knob, but kept his eyes on the man's face.

"I don't know where I was, but it felt like I was underground, not just in a building. She was carrying me in her arms. Brought me to what felt like an altar."

Gorion's eyes had widened and his jaw slackened slightly. His hand was still on the doorknob.

"And...that was it," Dorean finished. "I woke up and I saw you."

The young dwarf and his old foster father looked at each other. Then Gorion slowly removed his hand from the doorknob and turned to face Dorean directly, looking him straight in the eye.

"After we leave this place, I will tell you everything I know. About her, and about you. Everything."

Dorean looked at his resolute expression, then nodded.

"You should get some rest, child."

"You too, father. And again, thank you."

"Make sure to see Winthrop about your equipment."

"I will."

After the door had closed behind Gorion, Dorean leaned slowly against the wall at the head of his bed. He remained awake in that position for the next half-hour, eyes open and staring at nothing.

..

* * *

The sun had settled onto the horizon when Dorean left the clinic. Shedding the bandage around his head and tossing it casually aside, he strode across the outer grounds, checking his head and face for any noticeable scars, and carefully slowed his pace upon reaching the front double doors of the inn. Placing a hand on one of the doors, he took a moment to mould his facial expression, running a hand through his beard.

 _Sad, confused, disappointed._

He then pulled the door open and stepped through.

Winthrop was at the bar as usual, instructing his employees. Ignoring the sounds around him, Dorean kept his eyes on the innkeeper. He stood by the door and waited.

It only took about ten seconds for Winthrop to notice him. His eyes swivelled to the dwarf at a glance. His expression did not change upon seeing him, though he hesitated before lifting a hand in greeting.

Keeping his own hands at his sides, Dorean walked slowly over to the bar, stopping a few paces away so that Winthrop would not have to lean over the counter to see him.

"You feeling alright? I heard you were hurt during training."

Dorean delayed a few seconds before answering, his voice low and amiable. He did not take his eyes off the innkeeper.

"Yeah, I am okay." _Hold expression, delay for three, two, one._ "Gorion told me that you have arranged to provide me with what I'll need," he added, lowering his voice throughout the sentence until the word 'need' was barely audible.

Winthrop's eyes lingered on Dorean's face for a moment before he nodded and turned to the barmaid.

"I've got a customer. Could take a while. Hold the fort 'til I get back."

The barmaid hesitated, glanced at the dwarf, then silently nodded. As Dorean and Winthrop walked along the opposite sides of the bar, Dorean turned his head to the barmaid.

"Thank you," he said politely and quietly, though loud enough for Winthrop to hear.

Dwarf and innkeeper entered the corridor in the back wall, stopping outside a solid-looking wooden door. Winthrop removed a large key from around his neck, unlocked the door, and then entered. Dorean waited for him to walk further in before going in himself.

..

* * *

"So how is it?" said Winthrop from the other side of the modesty screen.

Dorean stepped out from behind it, tucking his yellow shirt over the armour.

"It doesn't feel like a gambeson."

"That's because it ain't," said Winthrop. "Studded leather. Better protection and more comfortable." He smiled, leaned over and gave Dorean a few light knocks on the chest. "And dwarf-size, of course."

Dorean flexed his arms up and down while turning his torso sideways. "It's a perfect fit."

"Great quality," Winthrop agreed. "Allows ye to move around quick and quiet as you like. Ordered from Beregost."

Dorean blinked, looking up at him with half-closed eyelids. "Beregost?"

Winthrop's smiled faded slightly and he looked away, rubbing the back of his head. "Yeah. I...ordered it for ye."

A moment passed before Dorean quietly nodded. "Thank you. It...means a lot, you know. That you care about my safety."

Winthrop paused, looking down at him, then gave a wave of his hand. "It's nothing. Least I could do after all the business we've had together, yeah?"

Dorean waited a few seconds before answering. "Yeah."

A moment passed in silence. Winthrop gave a deep breath, adjusted his belt, and then turned around and headed back to the shop counter. "You're gonna want a weapon too." He went behind the counter and reached down to the floor beside him.

"And here's yer favourite one," he said, placing it on the counter.

Dorean blinked slowly, then walked to the chair in front of the counter and climbed onto it. Standing on the chair, he then picked up the light crossbow, turning and angling it slowly in his hands.

"It's seen some use, I'll admit. At least a few years from the look of it," Winthrop continued. "But it's a good 'un. Shoots straight and true, and easy to load, that's important. Tested it meself."

Dorean said nothing. He stopped examining the crossbow, instead holding it in his arms and quietly looking at it. Winthrop scratched his cheek and then his hand.

"You could also keep a bolt locked in, though I wouldn't advise that," he said. "Never carry a loaded crossbow unless ye ready to use it, by the way."

"Did you order this from Beregost, too?" Dorean asked, looking up at Winthrop to meet his eyes. The innkeeper hesitated.

"Yeah, I did. Figured you'd need yer own, since the only one in Candlekeep you trained with is Reevor's."

Dorean looked at him, and then nodded. He gestured with his head toward the far wall where two wooden boards with target circles painted on had been nailed. "Do you mind if I try it out?"

Winthrop blinked. "Not at all, lad." He gestured with his arm toward a corner of the target-wall, where several quivers were stacked. "I've never seen ye shoot up close. Heard you're good, though."

Several minutes later, Dorean had fired his third bolt. Winthrop gave a low whistle from beside him.

"Dead center, all three. Reevor wasn't kidding. You're a crack shot, Dorean."

"Thank you." Dorean cradled the crossbow, hefting the business end. "It's a good weapon." He paused. "Do you have another one here?"

Winthrop looked down at him. "Yeah, I got a few more in the back. Why'd you ask?"

"Could you shoot a few with me?"

Winthrop blinked, tilting his head to the side. He looked away to the door and scratched the back of his head again. Then he looked back down at Dorean, paused, and smiled. "Sure. Just a couple shots, though, I have to get back to the inn soon."

Dorean returned the smile, handing him two bolts from the quiver on the floor in front of them. "Thanks. I always wanted to see how good you are at this."

In the span of ten seconds, Winthrop loaded and fired both bolts into the red circle of his target. Dorean leaned backwards with his arms crossed, looking at the wooden board.

"You're amazing."

"Ah, it's nothing," said Winthrop, resting his crossbow over his shoulder. "Coulda done that in half the time back in my adventuring days." He looked down at the dwarf to see that his eyelids were half-closed again, as though he were deep in thought. After a moment, Dorean looked up to meet his gaze. Both their crossbows were of the same model; Winthrop's looked like a toy in his hand while Dorean's was two-thirds his own height.

Another moment passed, and then Dorean deliberately looked away. "You've never told me much about yourself."

Winthrop blinked, then swallowed and shuffled his feet. "Yer old man never shared stories with you about me?"

"Not really," Dorean answered, his voice low. He kept his gaze averted, towards Winthrop's practice target. "He said you travelled with him for years. That you stood by him when all others wouldn't." He paused. "And that you're a good friend whom he would trust with his life."

Winthrop blinked twice rapidly, leaning his head back. "He said that?"

"Yeah, he did." _Except that last one_. "I know it can seem sometimes that I think of her as a pest." He lowered his gaze to the floor. "But I like Imoen, and I care about her a lot. And I'm sure she feels the same way. More than I do for her, even."

Winthrop let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. He lowered the crossbow to his side. His cheeks rose and fell as his expression moved between uncomfortable to guilty and then to despondent.

"Dorean," he said slowly. "I know she means a lot to ye. Believe me. It's just..." His eyes moved around in their sockets as he struggled to find the proper words. "Imoen's my _family_. She's all I've got left. I...I don't to lose her."

Dorean looked up to the innkeeper's face. "Then why don't you come with us?"

Winthrop's gaze met the dwarf's; earnest and hopeful. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he swallowed and gave his reply.

"I wish I could, lad. More than anything." His voice became more firm as he regained his composure. "But I can't have Imoen following you and Gorion." He paused and took a deep breath, maintaining eye contact. "I know why you're leaving; 'cos he thinks this place is no longer safe for you."

Dorean's eyes searched Winthrop's. Neither man looked away.

"I know that he's been preparing ye fer something bad. I don't know what, since he wouldn't tell me. But I know it's something. All that learning and training he had you do. And the poisons he's been tempering ye against."

Dorean's face and voice turned impassive. "You knew about that?"

"Yeah, he told me. He figured I should know about that before I send you off stealing from rich folks." Winthrop's expression and voice softened as he looked down at the young dwarf. "You've been a wonderful friend to Imoen, Dorean. And to me as well." He placed a large left hand on Dorean's shoulder. "But I can't have her be caught in whatever you and Gorion may be facing out there. I just, I just can't." He paused to take another deep breath, exhaling it through his nose. "Candlekeep's one of the best and safest places to look after someone, and if I leave, there's no way I could guarantee that I'll be allowed to settle down here again."

For a second, Winthrop thought he saw Dorean's eyes narrow and his expression changing from impassive to glaring. Then it passed and the dwarf's expression was now clearly crestfallen. The innkeeper blinked, his hand still on Dorean's shoulder, then carried on speaking.

"I just want my daughter to be safe, Dorean. Yer old man understands that, and I hope you do too."

Dorean looked down at the floor between them, then slowly back up to Winthrop. "I understand," he said softly.

Winthrop smiled gently and removed his hand from Dorean's shoulder. "I'll miss ye, lad. Never a better thief or crossbowman I've ever known, and I've known more than a few. Gorion's real proud of ye. Says you've grown into a fine young man." He paused. "You make sure to keep in touch, y'hear? I'm dead certain Imoen will send you a ton of letters."

Dorean smiled sadly. "I'm sure she will. Probably try to stuff snacks into them too."

Winthrop chuckled and then bent down to put an arm around Dorean's shoulders in a one-armed hug that, for a man his size, was surprisingly gentle. Dorean blinked, unable to return the hug with his arms still holding his own crossbow.

"Winthrop?" he said as the hug was released.

"Yes, lad?"

"Could you take another shot?" He hefted his own weapon. "I'd like to see it one more time."

Winthrop blinked, looking down at the crossbow, and then grinned. "Impressed ye that much, did I?"

"Yeah, you did. And I thought Reevor was good."

Revealing his teeth as his grin widened, Winthrop took the crossbow from Dorean and a bolt from the quiver.

As he stood up and turned away, Dorean's face lost all expression. Time seemed to slow to a crawl, with Winthrop standing in front of him and facing the target on the far wall.

Images flashed in the young dwarf's mind.

 _A knife. From his belt, into his left hand, into the innkeeper's belly._

 _An arrow, with the shaft snapped off and broken end trimmed. From his own pack, into his right hand, stabbed into his own shoulder._

 _Gorion. Treating his wound and listening as Dorean, his voice pained and tremulous, explained that Winthrop died trying to protect him._

 _Imoen. Confused and frightened, stammering questions as Gorion and Dorean hurriedly led her out of and away from Candlekeep._

The images faded, and Dorean looked up from Winthrop's stomach to his face. The innkeeper was now loading the crossbow, his movements sluggish as the slowed-time continued.

 _It wouldn't work. No one would buy it, least of all Gorion._ The instant the thought passed through his mind, time appeared to snap back to its normal speed.

Winthrop fired the crossbow, and for a third time the bolt hit the red circle of the target.

Dorean put a smile on his face and clapped lightly with his hands held up diagonally. Winthrop turned and took a bow, now sporting his familiar roguish grin.

"We've had some good times together, eh, Dorean?" He held out his hand.

"Yes, we have," the dwarf replied, holding out his own hand which was promptly engulfed by Winthrop's. He paused, then lifted his head. "Could you get Imoen off work now?"

Winthrop smiled, holding onto Dorean's hand. "Ten minutes?"

"Five."

"Eight."

"Five and a half." Dorean smirked.

"Heh! Alight, you have a deal." He gave Dorean's hand one more shake and then let go.

"Thank you again for these." Dorean held up his crossbow and gave the jacket under his shirt a few raps with his fist. "It means a lot."

"Don't mention it, lad. Go on and give Imoen the news. I'll clear up here."

Dorean gave him another warm smile and then left the shop. Winthrop watched him go.

When the door had closed behind the dwarf, Winthrop continued to look at it for several seconds before turning and bending down to pick up the quiver.

The back of his under-shirt lifted up slightly, exposing the chainmail underneath it.


	4. Chapter 4

"Eighty gold," said Imoen.

"No," replied Dorean.

"Ninety."

"No."

"A hundred and the ring, and that's my final offer."

"Really, let me consider, the answer's no."

Imoen slowed down and pouted at the back of Dorean's head for a moment before increasing her walking pace to move back beside him.

"Ain't fair of ya to take the best for yourself, little brother," she said airily. "Some might call that selfish."

Dorean turned his head slightly towards her. "Says the one who got everything else from tonight."

Imoen's expression and voice did not waver. "That ain't selfish. I did most of the work," she said, lifting her chin.

Dorean looked at her and then away. "I suppose you did," he said quietly.

Imoen lowered her head and looked down at the dwarf.

"Well, you did let me take all the rooms," she said. Her voice dropped to match his. "You've never done that before."

Dorean said nothing, looking straight ahead. Uncharacteristic quiet settled between the duo as they walked across the inner grounds.

When they reached the steps leading across the moat to the keep's front entrance, Dorean turned to the side, blinked, and then looked behind him. Imoen was standing in front of the southernmost fountain. The dwarf hesitated, then moved to stand beside her. She spoke the moment he turned to face in the same direction as her.

"Hey. You remember the first time I saw this?"

Dorean blinked and then smiled as the memory came back to him. "Yeah. You thought it was for bathing and jumped in. Then pulled me in by my beard when I tried to get you out."

Imoen giggled. "Your clothes and hair got soaked. You were so angry."

The two thieves stood laughing softly at the fountain. Two priests of Oghma walked by, glancing at them.

After their laughter slowly faded and then stopped, Imoen smiled quietly, continuing to look at the fountain.

"You remember afterwards, when our dads were towelling us dry?"

Dorean's smile faded, and he dropped his gaze to the bottom of the fountain.

"You said you never wanted to be around me again," said Imoen, her voice still merry.

Dorean closed his eyes, feeling an indiscernible weight in the centre of his chest.

"But then not ten minutes later, you were waiting to walk me up to class, like always." Imoen turned to look down at Dorean. "My dad said he could do it, but you always insisted on helping me."

Dorean opened his eyes, looking up at her.

Imoen was smiling down at him, the water-reflected moonlight highlighting her eyes.

The dwarf hesitated. "Well. I figured if I was going to have a partner-in-crime, I should start teaching her properly."

Imoen laughed. "Yeah. Teaching yer ten-year-old future rogue to climb stairs without falling over herself."

Dorean sighed, still smiling. "You were such a handful back then."

Imoen paused for a moment. "I was, wasn't I?" They blinked at each other. "But I'm not now, right?"

It was Dorean's turn to pause. "I guess I've gotten used to you."

Once again, their smiles faded and they looked back to the fountain. After a moment, Dorean looked up at her.

"Is there something on your mind?"

"I could ask you the same," Imoen replied, her eyes on the flowing water. "You've been awfully quiet since this morning. Didn't say a word during lessons or training."

Dorean slowly looked up at her. "Why didn't you ask me about it then?"

"I figured you would tell me when you felt like it. You always do, sooner or later." Imoen turned her head and smile down at him. The dwarf looked at her, then lowered his gaze to his reflection in the water. He took a deep breath and released it through his nose.

"Gorion told me during breakfast; he'll be taking me out of Candlekeep soon. Three days at most."

Five seconds of silence elapsed before Imoen spoke.

"Oh."

The word seemed to hang in the air between them. Another moment passed. The flowing water and the wind, which was always muffled by the keep's walls, sounded exceptionally loud to Dorean.

"A journey, eh? That's kinda neat."

Dorean froze, then slowly looked up at her. Imoen was now looking at the fountain.

"Guess Mister G feels you're all grown up now." She placed her hands in her pockets and slowly rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. "Ready to go with him on adventures like in the books we read." She cocked her head slightly and smiled. "I never got to travel." She looked back down to meet his gaze. "Wish I could go with ya."

Dorean continued to look at her, and he opened his mouth. _Why don't you?_

He stopped as Winthrop's words echoed in his mind. _I just want my daughter to be safe._

"Did Mister G say when you'll be coming back?" said Imoen, apparently not noticing his self-interruption.

Dorean paused. "I don't know. Soon, I hope."

Imoen grinned. "Miss me already, do ya?"

Dorean could not help but smile, albeit sadly, as he looked away. "You won't be easy to forget."

He saw Imoen move from the corner of his eye, and then blinked as she bent down and hugged him from the side, wrapping her arms around his chest. He felt her cheek against the back of his head.

"You'll be writing to me, of course," said Imoen cheerily into his ear. "Lots and lots of letters. Telling me all about your adventures. I want a letter detailing every day you spend out there. Then when you come back, we can write a book all about it. Mark it as a tome of great historical value and put it in the library."

Dorean's chin rested on her arm as he lowered his head. He then reached up to return the hug, his left hand on her shoulder and his right arm around her back. He closed his eyes, patting her shoulder and back a few times. "I'll come back. I promise."

"I'll hold you to that. Literally," replied Imoen, tightening her hug. She then released it and leaned back. He opened his eyes to look at her. "Aw, don't cry, little brother."

"I'm not," said Dorean quickly. "These fountains are too strong, we're standing too close, some of it got on my face." He tried and failed to scowl at her knowing smile, glaring at a passing Reader. The woman averted her gaze and hurried past them.

"It ain't goodbye yet, little brother. We still got a couple days, right?" said Imoen. "Whaddaya say we blow off all our chores tomorrow? I'll get us spots at the gambling table. You could make some extra money to buy me stuff on your journey."

Dorean chuckled and smiled at her face, now level with his own. "I'll tell you where I am, and you can send me a list of what you'd want me to buy. Or steal."

Imoen smiled happily, then leaned forward and kissed him square on the forehead. Dorean blinked as she stood and looked up at the full moon.

"We should get some sleep then; we'll need all our energy to cheat them watchful Watchers." She looked down at the dwarf and placed her hands on her hips. "Still gonna make your rounds before you go to bed? It's getting pretty late."

"Reevor'll give me more exercises if I don't, you know that," said Dorean. "I'll make it quick."

"Alright, then," said Imoen. Patting him on his head, she hopped past him and toward the steps.

"Imoen," said Dorean, not turning around.

The pink thief groaned, turned around, walked back and deposited the gem over his shoulder and into his palm. Smirking, Dorean pocketed the gem and walked away.

"We're both getting too old for bedtime stories," he called over his shoulder. He did not look behind him, smiling as Imoen stuck out her tongue at his retreating back.

He slowed his pace upon passing under the inner wall, his smile now gone.

 _You didn't want me to think you'd be unhappy about me leaving. Or to make me unhappy about leaving either._

Ignoring a passing greeting from one of his tutors, Dorean continued his slow walk across the outer grounds, his face downcast.

..

* * *

Stopping just outside the storehouse, Dorean tilted his head to the night sky.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his large nose, taking in the smell of salt and sea of the coastal air.

 _Never thought I'd miss this place._

He opened his eyes and exhaled slowly and deeply, letting all air out of his lungs. Taking a moment to adjust the straps on his pack, he then opened the door to the storehouse.

He had taken no more than a few steps inside when he detected another smell.

 _Dark ale._

He spotted its source less than a second later.

In the middle of the room and facing the door, Shank Gwist was sitting on one of the many large wooden crates in the storehouse, idly tossing and catching a dagger. He looked up from chewing the nails in his free hand. Upon seeing the dwarf, his lips curled into a yellow-toothed grin, accentuating his scar.

"Oh goodie, goodie! Looks like I made the correct guess!" He hopped off the crate with dagger in hand.

Dorean's eyes went to the weapon for a half-second before focusing on Shank's face; eager and anticipatory. For a moment, the dwarf did not move. Then he slowly and casually eased his pack from his shoulders and onto the floor.

"A guess, Mister Gwist?" he asked slowly, stretching out the word 'guess'. He cocked his head in apparent curiosity.

"Aye. Me an' me partner made a bet on who'd find ye first."

"Find me?" said Dorean, his voice pleasantly inquisitive. He deliberately blinked and looked around the room, keeping Shank in his peripheral vision, then back to the man. "You were looking for me, sir?"

"Aye," said Shank, sounding very pleased with himself. He gave a few short neighs of laughter. "See, back at the inn, we never did get your name. It is Dorean, correct?"  
The dwarf paused, then rested his hands on his belt, moving his feet so that his right foot was slightly in front of his left. "Yes, Mister Gwist."

"And you are the ward of Gorion, no doubt?" Shank asked, rubbing the fingers of his knife-hand against the weapon's handle.

Dorean felt cold air blowing through the door and against his back. He kept his expression curious. His right hand slowly dipped into one of the pouches attached to his belt. "I am. Do you want to meet with him, sir?"

"No, no," replied Shank, shaking his head. "That won't be necessary, my polite friend. See, it's you that I want to speak to." His grin widened, stretching from ear to ear. "And by 'speak', I mean with this here blade." He gave the dagger another toss. "I apologize for this-"

Dorean's right hand flew up from his belt, sending crumbs of cheese and bread into Shank's face. As the man jerked backwards in surprise, the dwarf rushed forward, pushing off the ground with his left foot and drawing his knife from its belt-sheath with his left hand. He reached Shank as the man was bringing his hands up to his eyes, driving the blade into the leg just above the knee. He then wrenched the blade down and to his side, splitting the wound.

Shank toppled backwards, the back of his head crashing against the side of the crate. His scream was immediately cut short as Dorean brought his foot up and into the man's jaw, and he crumbled to the floor in an unconscious heap.

Dorean immediately made an about-turn with the bloody knife held in front of him, his head swivelling like an owl's. He stood still for several seconds, then moved toward the door and closed it.

After taking a look out the window, he wiped his knife on one of his belt-cloths, sheathed it, went over to Shank and leaned him against the crate. A search of his clothing and pockets yielded nothing. The dwarf then walked over to the man's dagger and picked it up with his right hand.

It took him a moment to determine the reason for the silver of blood on its blade; two fingers to his brow just above his left eye came back red.

 _Must have caught me when it was coming back down._

He held the dagger in the palm of his hand, and his fingers tightened around its handle as he recalled Shank's words. He turned and contemplated the unconscious ruffian, his eyes narrowing in deep thought.

..

* * *

A few minutes later, Dorean had locked the door, extinguished all the wall-mounted candles in the storehouse, and dragged Shank out of the light, propping him back-first against the wall.

He then kneeled next to Shank's right side and gave the man's cheeks a few firm yet light slaps. His eyes flickered open, and then widened as they adjusted to the dim moonlight and focused on his knee.

"Oh, gods," he gasped. "Me leg. Look what you did to me leg!"

"Please keep your voice down, Mister Gwist," said Dorean calmly, facing a spot a few feet to to the right of Shank's head.

"I need a healer! Gods help me, I need a hea-!" He choked as the blade of his own dagger pressed against his throat, drawing blood. The dwarf did not turn his head to look at Shank's face.

"Mister Gwist," said Dorean slowly, his voice modulated. "Lower your voice. Please."

The dwarf delayed a moment, waiting for Shank's breaths to become very slightly less rapid, then leaned back and eased the dagger from the man's throat. Shank leaned his head forward and coughed, his hands gripping his bloody knee.

"Mister Gwist."

Shank continued to look down at his knee. Blood was now pooling on the floor around the limb. His breathing sped up again, turning to rapid pants, his chest rising up and down.

"Mister. Gwist."

Shank looked up. In the dark, it was impossible to make out Dorean's expression, except for his gray eyes. They starred at the ruffian's face, slightly lidded and devoid of emotion.

"Please tell me why you intended to kill me," said the dwarf, his voice quietly pleasant.

Shank's lower lip trembled and he lowered his head, his breath turning from pants to wheezes. "I-I never in-intended at killin' ye. I s-swear. J-just wanted a'scare ye. Jus' a scare, that's all. That's all it was, just a little scare."

Dorean let out an audible sigh and then, with no change in expression, violently grabbed Shank by the throat with his right hand. Planting his right knee on the man's thigh, he sharply tapped Shank's stab-wound with the flat of the dagger. Shank's scream was drowned in a choke as Dorean tightened the grip on his throat. His hands moved to Dorean's wrist, tugging feebly at the dwarf's gloved hand.

Dorean silently counted to ten and then stood up, releasing his hold on the man's throat and thigh. Shank's upper body and head sank sideways to the floor, hands gripping his leg.

"The truth, Mister Gwist," said Dorean calmly. "Share it with me, and I will bring the guards here and have them take you to the clinic." He paused deliberately. "Please don't lie to me again," he added, a touch of silver in his voice.

The ruffian's body shook with sobs.

"I am waiting, Mister Gwist."

After several more sobs, Shank spoke from the floor. "It was fer a bounty. That's all it was, just a bounty. Ain't nothing personal," he said, his voice growing weaker with each syllable. "Ain't nothin' pers'nal."

"From whom did you receive this bounty?"

Shank did not answer, continuing to cower on the floor. Dorean calmly looked down at him for a moment, exhaled through his nose, and then gave his torn knee a light kick with his boot. Shank's body jerked and he gave out a hoarse cry, tightening his grip on his leg.

"I don't know, I swear!" His voice became rapid, the words coming out in a tumble. "Some foreign woman, I don't know who! She was inna place in the city, where you go an' set up bounties, have people put them all over town, we saw her, thought she was very pretty, chatted her up, she gave us the job, told us where to find ye..." His voice trailed off as he resumed sobbing, his fingers digging into his leg around the stab wound.

Dorean quietly stepped to the side as the blood pool spread closer to his feet. He scratched his beard with his free hand, looking at down at Shank while keeping the door in his peripheral vision.

"What did this woman say, exactly?"

"Not much," Shank replied, his voice now small and audible. "Said she weren't in-rest'ed in havin' a drink with us. Told us she was puttin' up a job fer two hun'ned gold. Easy money, she said, the lyin'..."

"Two hundred," said Dorean slowly and softly, stretching out the three syllables. He looked up in thought for a moment, then back down to Shank. "Anything else?"

"Oh gods, please, jus' get me a healer, I'll tell ye anythin-"

Dorean again lightly booted the wounded knee. This time Shank did not scream or cry out. He mewled feebly, tears flowing from his face onto the floor.

"Take a few deeps breath, Mister Gwist," the dwarf said calmly.

Shank's chest shook with more sobs before he spoke, his voice now muffled from pressing his own face into the floor. "Said she'd sent word o' us to Can'll keep. Said someone'll meet us inside, tell us about ye, what ye look like, give us weapons, pay us when we've done the job."

Dorean's eyes narrowed, and in a moment of paranoia, he turned and looked over his shoulder. He blinked slowly, holding up and looking at the dagger in his hand, then turned back to his would-be killer. "Who is this 'someone'?"

"Don't know," mewled Shank. "I swear I don't know. She said not'a ask, says he'll show himself to us, pay us when it's done, that's all I know, I swear, please don't hurt me anymore..."

Slowly, Dorean stepped back from Shank. He stood there for a moment, ignoring the man's quiet sobs, his gaze moving to a large crate nearby whose lid had been removed and placed on the ground next to it.

 _It should be big enough to fit him in; he's not nearly as fat as the last one._

He looked down at Shank's wound. The leg, trousers and floor around him was now covered in blood.

 _I could clean it up. Will take some time, though._

Nodding quietly to himself, Dorean took a step forward, tightening his grip on the dagger.

An unbidden memory arose in his mind; him sitting at Gorion's desk earlier this morning.

 _If anything happens, come straight to me. Do you understand?_

The dwarf stopped in mid-step. He blinked a few times, then snarled silently and gritted his teeth.

After a long moment, he turned his gaze to Shank's face; the man had closed his eyes and was now crying quietly into the floor.

"Mister Gwist," he said softly.

Shank slowly turned his head, scraping it against the stone floor, to look up at the dwarf.

Dorean's face was still mostly devoid of emotion, only now his eyes gleamed with malice.

"You cost me a going-away party."

"Wha-?"

He kicked the knee again, with much more force than before. Shank's mouth open to scream again, and Dorean's boot swung back and connected with his jaw. His head snapped back and against the wall, and he went still.

Several minutes later, Dorean had dragged Shank back to where he had fallen before, cleaned up the blood-trail leading to the corner, replaced the crate-lid, relit the candles, and turned off his infravision.

Returning to Shank's body, he kneeled down and pressed two fingers against the man's neck.

No pulse.

Resisting the urge to spit, Dorean drew Shank's dagger from his belt, and placed it on the floor next to his hand.

Closing and locking the door behind him, he left the storehouse and strode towards the keep entrance, returning the greetings of lantern-bearing watchers and priests with smiles, waves and nods.


	5. Chapter 5

Upon reaching the fifth floor of the library, instead of heading directly for Gorion's room, Dorean drifted to the side as he walked, stopping in front of the door of the room next to it.

He looked up at the thin plaque nailed to the centre of the door, and the two names written on it. Imoen's hand-writing is as neat as his own, though with much more style and flair.

His eyes moved to the door of Gorion's room, then back to his own. The dwarf lowered his head and closed his eyes. He felt his gloved hands clench into fists and the grinding of his teeth.

After a moment, he took a deep breath and released it, relaxing his hands. Opening his eyes, he looked up at the plaque again, then turned away and walked to the other door.

Gorion was sitting at his desk, head lowered and eyes on a few opened scrolls in front of him. He raised his head as Dorean opened the door, and his face turned pale when he saw the grave expression on his ward's face along with the cut on his brow.

As Gorion rose from his desk, Dorean quietly stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.

..

* * *

A few minutes later, Dorean was sitting in front of the desk with a mug of copper-coloured herbal tea in his hands. Having gone around the room and finished checking old wards and placing new ones, Gorion returned to his desk and sat behind it to face his ward.

"Where is this man now?"

"In the storehouse, where I left him," he replied quietly.

Placing his elbows on the desk, Gorion clasped his hands together and leaned his jaw into them, his expression downcast. After a moment, he closed his eyes, seeming to have fallen into deep thought.

Dorean quietly sipped his tea, watching him.

Another moment passed before Gorion opened his eyes, silently nodded to himself, and then reached into his drawer. Pulling out a scroll, he wrote quickly and briefly on it, then stood up and moved to the window. He rolled up and then tossed it out. Wizard and thief watched as the seemingly ordinary scroll promptly turned into a white-feathered bird and flew away in the direction of the sea.

Gorion then turned to his ward, his expression telling Dorean before the words were spoken.

"We need to leave now."

Placing his teacup holding hands on his lap, Dorean silently lowered his head, his nod barely perceptible. He kept his gaze to the floor.

He heard Gorion move and felt the man's hand on his shoulder.

"Wait for me to gather my things," the wizard said softly.

Dorean did not move a muscle as Gorion went to a cupboard and drew out a pack. He stayed very still, ignoring the heat of the tea-cup against his leg.

Only his eyes moved, the orbs of gray rising to gaze blankly at the wall behind the desk.

..

* * *

Imoen was sitting up in her bed, close to the candle-stand on her bedside table. She looked up from her book when Dorean opened the door, and her welcoming smile instantly disappeared upon seeing the wizard standing behind Dorean, dressed and equipped for travel. She froze where she sat, the book falling from her slackened hands onto the bed next to her lap. For several seconds, there was no movement or sound from any of them.

"You are leaving now?"

The four words, spoken so softly that they were barely audible, felt to Dorean like four indiscernible pangs in his chest. The dwarf averted his gaze from her face and turned away from her, silently moving to his bed in the other side of the room.

Slowly, mouth hanging slightly open and eyes wide, Imoen got out of her own bed and stood next to it.

The dwarf placed his pack on the bed, then walked over to his cupboard and reached up to open it. The creak of the hinges sounded unusually loud to him this time. He kept his face and eyes away from the two humans.

"What happened?" whispered Imoen, her head moving back and forth between Dorean and Gorion before stopping to focus on the latter.

After taking a look over his shoulder, Gorion turned back to Imoen and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. When he spoke, there was a slight tautness to his usual gentle tone. "One of the visitors here had just attempted to kill Dorean. He was waiting for him in the storehouse."

Imoen froze again, becoming more wide-eyed and slack-jawed as she stared at Gorion's grave expression. Still keeping his gaze averted from them, Dorean quietly took a few books, jars and a flask from the bottom shelves of the tall cupboard, then moved to his bed and placed them next to the pack.

"But...why?" said Imoen, her voice now rising in pitch. "Why would anyone want to hurt him?"

It was the dwarf's turn to freeze. He stared at the wall, one hand holding the open flap of his pack while the other held a jar. The air in the room was feeling heavier with every passing second.

Gorion blinked as he looked at Imoen, his eye-lids half-closing as his expression became even softer than before.

"I do not know," said Gorion. He looked up at a point slightly above Imoen's head, and his voice and expression changed. His eyes glinted, and there was a cold, steely edge to his usual gentle tone. "But I intend to find out, along with whoever is responsible."

A chill seemed to emanate from the old wizard, spreading throughout the room, and both Imoen and Dorean shivered slightly. The dwarf turned his head, though not enough to see either of them.

Gorion paused, and when he looked back at Imoen, his expression and voice became wholly gentle again. "Dorean and I must leave now, without delay. This place is no longer safe for him, and so long as we remain, it will not be for anyone else here."

Dorean did not move, keeping his gaze on the wall.

After a very long and silent moment, Imoen's mouth closed into a determined grimace. She lifted her head and straightened her shoulders, then turned and picked up the candle-stand on the bedside table. Hearing her footsteps, Dorean turned around to look at her. Wizard and dwarf watched as the pink thief marched behind the modesty screen in the corner of the room, placing the candle-stand on the sill of the window next to her clothing wardrobe.

They heard the wardrobe open, close, and then the rustling of clothing. Dorean slowly turned his head to look at Gorion. The wizard met his gaze for a moment, his eyes brimming with sympathy, and blinked slowly before he turned back to the screen.

"Imoen," he said slowly and gently, drawing out the three syllables.

The girl did not answer. From the sound behind the screen, she was now putting on her boots.

"Imoen."

No answer. Gorion fell silent. Both men stood quietly, looking at the screen. About a minute later, Imoen stepped out from behind it, adjusting the neckline of her pink cloak.

She moved to the center of the room to face Gorion, straight-backed and chin raised. For a moment, her eyes moved to and lingered on Dorean's face before moving back to Gorion's.

The jar still held loosely in his hand, Dorean looked up at her. The usual bright cheeriness and mischief on her face was gone, replaced with narrow-eyed, resolute determination. Somehow, despite him being nearly twice her height, Dorean thought for a second that Gorion seemed to be shrinking slightly before her.

The old wizard blinked several times and swallowed once before he spoke.

"The journey will not be sa-"

"I am not helpless, Mister G," she said quietly. Her voice was now unlike anything that either man had ever heard from her; low, flat and grim. "I have been training with the Watchers since I was ten. You have seen my skill with a bow."

"...yes. Yes, I have. But, Imoen." Again, he drew out the name. "I cannot promise that you will be safe in our company."

"And what do you want _me_ to promise?" replied Imoen, her eyes flashing in an intense glare. "To stay here and be safe while you take him out there into danger?"

Dorean felt a tightness in his throat. He blinked quickly twice and swallowed involuntarily, tightening his grip on the jar to keep it from falling to the floor.

Gorion lifted his head slightly, his blue eyes meeting Imoen's green.

"I will be with him, Imoen," he said, his voice clear and sombre. "And I will protect him with all my strength. I promise."

Dorean looked at Gorion and then back to Imoen; she had squared her jaw, tightened her grimace further, and balled her hands into fists.

"You know that's not the point."

Her eyes blazed fiercely, and as he glanced at Gorion, it seemed to Dorean that the wizard just barely resisted an urge to step back.

"He's my brother, as much as he's your son." She lifted her chin at him. "I'm coming with you, and that's that."

The moment that passed next felt like the longest one of the entire day. Imoen gazed into Gorion's eyes, her expression and posture unwavering.

Gorion's face fell. He closed his eyes, drew in a deep and slow breath through his nose, filling his chest, and exhaled it through his mouth in a low, audible sigh. He slowly opened his eyes, looking at Imoen.

Dorean blinked and lifted his head, straightening his back as he looked up at Gorion. A strange, warm feeling arose in the dwarf's chest.

"I am sorry, Imoen."

Gorion lifted his hand, and Dorean's feeling instantly imploded. The jar fell from his hand, bouncing off and then landing unbroken on the floor.

In a single second, the old wizard had uttered the words of a spell. Imoen had enough time to widen her eyes in surprise before her eyelids began to close and her head drooped.

In a few quick steps, Gorion crossed the room and caught her by the shoulders as she fell forward, her head coming to rest on his chest.  
For a long moment, he held her in a quiet embrace, resting his cheek on her head, then gently picked her up in his arms and carried her to her bed. Carefully, as though she were made of glass, he laid her on it.

After using the index and middle fingers of his right hand to part her hair from her face, Gorion placed his hand gently on her forehead and closed his eyes.

"Tymora bless and smile upon you always, child."

He slowly opened his eyes and leaned back from the bed, turning to face Dorean. Gorion paused, looking at the dwarf.

"She will wake in a few hours," he said gently. "Gather your belongings."

It was only after the wizard had moved to the window and extinguished the candle that Dorean realized why he had dropped the jar.

He looked down to see his left hand gripping the handle of his half-unsheathed knife.

The dwarf blinked slowly, then slowly sheathed and eased his hand from the weapon and turned back to his pack.

..

* * *

When Gorion turned away from the window a few minutes later, Dorean had put on his pack and removed the halfling cloak from its hiding place in the wall behind the cupboard.

The old man paused, looking at the dwarf as he put it on and secured the clasp. He blinked away an old memory as the dwarf looked up at him and then nodded. Nodding back, Gorion then crossed the room to the door, opened it and stood in the doorway, his eyes sweeping the library beyond.

He then turned to see that Dorean had crossed the room to Imoen's bed and now stood next to it, looking at the sleeping girl.

After giving him a few seconds, Gorion spoke softly.

"We must go."

Several more seconds passed, the dwarf not moving or turning his gaze from Imoen. Then he quietly drew a small knife from his belt.

Gorion tensed, his eyes widening and hand swiftly moving in the motions of a spell.

Seeming not to notice, Dorean reached over and took two-fingers-and-a-thumb-full of Imoen's hair, furthest from her head and face, and deftly cut it off.

Sheathing his knife, the dwarf tucked the hair into the glove of his right hand, then slowly lowered his hands to his sides, looking at Imoen again.

Gorion released the breath he was holding and lowered his own hand. He watched as Dorean placed the palm of his left hand on the back of Imoen's, gave it a slight squeeze, and then turned to face Gorion.

Without a word to the wizard, Dorean walked past him and out of the room, stopping a few paces away. He stared straight ahead at nothing.

Gorion turned his gaze from the dwarf to Imoen, and then stepped out from the doorway and closed the door behind him.

..

* * *

As Gorion led him through the entrance garden and into the outer grounds, Dorean's eyes narrowed at what he saw ahead of them; the castle doors and portcullis of the front gate open and unguarded, and no sign of any Watchers either at the gate or the battlements above. The dwarf's left hand moved to rest on the handle of his knife as he followed the wizard.

Gorion slowed his quick strides to a slow walk as they approached the gateway, stopping underneath the battlements with Dorean close behind him. The wizard went still, only his eyes scanning the area in front of him.

There was a footstep close to their left, and both wizard and dwarf jumped and whirled to face it.

Winthrop stood not a few paces away, a large sack over his right shoulder and Dorean's crossbow in his left hand, the business end pointed at the ground.

Gorion visibly relaxed, lowering his hand. Dorean stayed put, keeping his hand on his knife while relaxing his grip on it.

There was now no sign of the usual joviality on Winthrop's round face; instead, it was inscrutable, displaying no emotion.

Silently, Winthrop placed the sack on the ground, then reached into it with his right hand. He drew out a bag about half the size of Gorion's backpack. Dorean inhaled through his nose and deduced that it was filled with food. He slowly let go of his knife, his hand drifting to his side.

Still saying nothing, the innkeeper held up the small bag to Gorion.

The wizard kept his eyes on Winthrop's face as he reached out and took the bag with one hand. Dorean stared unblinkingly at them, and it seemed to him that a voiceless exchange of words passed between the two men before Winthrop relinquished the bag and Gorion slung it over his shoulder to rest against his backpack.

They looked at each other for a moment longer, neither men blinking nor showing any outward emotion, before Winthrop then picked up the sack and stepped over to Dorean.

As he looked up at the moonlight-silhouetted man, it occurred to Dorean just how big the innkeeper was; he was Gorion's height and nearly twice the wizard's size in terms of girth.

Stopping in front of the dwarf, Winthrop quietly looked down at Dorean's face. After a few seconds, his expression softened. He slowly put down the sack again, drew a quiver of crossbow bolts from it and handed it to Dorean. The dwarf silently took and fastened the quiver to his belt at his left hip.

He looked up slightly as Winthrop handed him the crossbow, and took it in both hands. Noticing the leather sling now attached to it, he slung the weapon onto his back behind his backpack.

He did not look up at Winthrop again, keeping his head down and looking past the innkeeper to Gorion; the old wizard quietly watched them both, and met Dorean's gaze.

For a moment, the only sounds were the coastal wind and waves crashing against the cliffs far below. Then, with only the ghost of a gentle smile on his lips, Winthrop reached out with his hand and very gently patted Dorean on the top of his head. He ruffled the dwarf's hair.

A voice rose in Dorean's mind, very similar to yet not quite his own.

 _Grab it, bite it, disembowel, stab his_ _ **face**_ _._

He blinked heavily, shutting his eyelids for an entire second before opening them again.

He stayed still and silent, keeping his eyes fixed on Gorion. Another moment passed before Winthrop turned and walked back to Gorion. The wizard looked at his ward for a moment before lifting his head to meet the innkeeper's gaze.

They again exchanged silent nods, and Winthrop took Gorion's thin, long-fingered hand in his own.

"Oghma guide you both," said Winthrop quietly, giving Gorion's hand a single, short shake.

Gorion answered with another quiet nod, released his hand, and then turned to Dorean. "Come, my child," he said gently.

Without a gaze or word to Winthrop, Dorean quietly followed Gorion through the wooden castle doors and out from the outer walls of Candlekeep into the night.

He did not look back.


	6. Chapter 6

_Gorion looked over his shoulder and saw that Dorean was now even further behind him than before._

 _Noticing his turned head, the little dwarf returned his gaze with a malignant glare. The old wizard paused, then silently turned back to the road._

 _The edges of his robes lifted slightly and flowed behind him as the sea breeze became stronger, and after a few minutes he stopped at the end of the causeway leading to the peninsula of Candlekeep. Lifting his chin, Gorion noted the walls and battlements of the fortress as well as the surrounding cliffs. He breathed in deeply and exhaled through his mouth._

 _It has been a long time since I last saw the sea._

 _He blinked, then looked over his shoulder again. Dorean too had stopped and was now over twenty paces away._

 _"You told me you could keep up," Gorion said sternly._

 _When Dorean neither answered nor moved, the wizard frowned, took another deep breath, then turned and moved toward him._

 _He stopped at ten paces away. The dwarf was now breathing heavily and had placed one of his hands to his chest._

 _"What is it?" said Gorion, his voice slightly less cold than before._

 _Dorean's mouth opened and closed, and he swallowed several times before finally answering._

 _"I-I'm not crossing that."_

 _Gorion looked at him, at the causeway, then back to him again._

 _"It was made to withstand the waves, and even in a storm the winds are hardly ever strong enough to-"_

 _Dorean lowered his head. "I am NOT. Crossing. That." His right hand clenched into a fist at his side. He breathed nosily and heavily through his mouth, his chest rising and falling beneath his left hand. The fingers dug painfully into chest._

 _Gorion's shoulders relaxed and his eyes became half-lidded as he regarded his companion; at three-and-a-half feet tall with a skinny build and dressed in a tattered shirt and trousers a few dwarf-sizes too big for him, Dorean was hardly the most imposing or intimidating person he had ever met._

 _The wizard paused, then sighed and ran a hand through his hair._

 _"We are running late for our meeting with the Kee-"_

 _He took a step toward Dorean and immediately the little dwarf had a bone dagger in his right hand and pointed at Gorion's face. He_ _stopped, gazing at the weapon._

 _How did I miss that?_

 _Dorean was now baring his teeth at him, gray eyes glinting. The wizard kept his hands at his sides, looking coolly down at the dwarf._

 _They both stood still, starring at each other. Then Gorion blinked; behind the goatee, he saw that the dwarf's chin was quivering._

 _He is frightened. And not of me._

 _He felt the sea breeze again, lifting up and pulling at both their clothes, and saw Dorean shudder and tighten the grip on his chest even further._

 _After a very long moment, ignoring the dagger and maintaining eye-contact, he quietly kneeled down and extended a hand, the palm facing up at a slight diagonal angle._

 _"Come on. I will carry you," he said gently._

 _Several long minutes went by in total silence, Dorean's eyes darting between Gorion's hand, his face and the coast. Gorion did not move. He kept his gaze firmly fixed on the dwarf's face. Then_ _Dorean very slowly put the dagger away and stepped forward hesitantly, pausing a few times. The wizard did not lower his hand, avert his gaze or change his expression, quietly waiting._

 _He stopped just short of Gorion's hand. Maintaining his kneeling posture, the wizard inched forward a few steps with his feet, placed his right hand under Dorean's legs and then slowly and carefully lifted him a foot off the ground before standing up. He paused for a moment, Dorean's head now level with his chest._

 _So light. He could not weigh more than sixty pounds._

 _They both looked at each other for a moment before Gorion quietly turned back to the coast._

 _As he approached the causeway, he felt Dorean's breath become more rapid and his shuddering more violent. Glancing down, he saw that his companion had shut his eyes tight and was now biting his bottom lip. His small body was shaking from head to foot._

 _The little dwarf grabbed at his robes and clung tightly to him as the wizard reached and started walking along the causeway. Occasionally Gorion felt him flinch at the sound and spray of a large wave._

 _The old wizard hesitated, then moved his left hand up to gently pat the back of the little dwarf's head._

 _"It's alright." He said gently, stroking the mane of brown hair. "It's alright."_

 _He felt Dorean's grip on his robes relax slightly and his breathing becoming less rapid, although his eyes remained shut and his body continued to twitch._

 _As Candlekeep drew nearer and larger on the horizon, Gorion felt Dorean's small head rest against his chest. He glanced down at the boy's face, and a gentle, unbidden smile came to his own._

 _"I got you."_

 _.._

* * *

Feeling the Strength spell beginning to fade, Gorion changed his fast walk to a jog, and stopped after reaching the end of the causeway.

"We are across now."

Dorean opened his eyes, blinked a few times, then released his grip on the old man's shoulders, nimbly hopped off his back and moved to stand beside him. He took a moment to rub his chest and take several deep, long breaths, wheezing past his beard.

"Thank you, father," he said softly, not looking up at the wizard.

Giving him a quick smile and pat on the head, Gorion cast an _Infravision_ spell on himself for the second time, blinked slowly twice, then nodded to him and resumed walking.

A few minutes passed in silence, Dorean adjusting the straps of his pack uncomfortably, before he worked up the nerve to speak.

"So where are we going?" he asked, keeping level with Gorion despite the man's longer strides.

"The Friendly Arm Inn," answered Gorion, his eyes on the road ahead.

Dorean hesitated again before speaking.

"That where we're meeting your old friends? The Harpers?"

"Yes. If I am correct, they are there presently, and awaiting our arrival."

Silence once more descended on the travelling duo for several minutes, during which Dorean fidgeted and looked anywhere but at Gorion before he finally worked up the nerve to speak.

"Father...about what happened back in-"

"You have nothing to apologize for," Gorion said softly. "You were reacting in defence of her."

Another moment of silence passed between them. Gorion swallowed once and then looked down at his ward.

"Child."

Dorean looked up into the old man's eyes.

"You should never feel the need to apologize for protecting those you love."

Dorean paused, then quietly nodded. After a moment, he looked up at Gorion again.

"These people we're meeting, who-"

A cacophony of shrieks and howls erupted ahead of them. Both men snapped their heads forward and Dorean quickly took a few steps to the side away from Gorion.

A pack of hunchbacked, black-furred humanoids appeared, steaming down the road straight toward them with short swords raised.

As he drew the crossbow from his back, Dorean rapidly counted the charging monsters.

 _Five ten fifteen twenty..._

Gritting his teeth, the dwarf reached for the quiver at his hip and grabbed a bolt.

"Cover your eyes!"

Dorean immediately obeyed. With his left hand holding the crossbow, he fumbled and dropped the bolt as he brought his right arm across his face. He closed his eyes as a sudden burst of radiant light exploded in the midst of the pack.

A few seconds later, he uncovered and opened his eyes, swiftly reaching down and grabbing the bolt off the ground. When he looked up, there was no sign of the creatures; no bodies, blood or dropped swords.

He turned his head to look at Gorion. The wizard was standing very still, arms still outstretched from casting the _Sunburst_ spell.

"Father?"

Gorion did not answer. Still looking up at him, Dorean hesitantly loaded the crossbow, then slowly turned his head to look at the road ahead.

"That was not an attack," Gorion said abruptly, his voice low and quiet.

He turned his head to look at Dorean. Both men starred at each other before Gorion returned his gaze to the road. His eyes narrowed and he took a deep breath, releasing it through his mouth.

"Come, child. Stay behind me."

Keeping his crossbow out and ready, Dorean followed Gorion off the poorly-lit road into the darkness of the undergrowth, jogging to keep up with the wizard.

..

* * *

"I will give you one more chance; hand him over, and I will let you live."

Five seconds passed. To Dorean, they seemed like minutes. He glanced at Gorion, moving only his eyes and not turning his head from his aimed crossbow. He saw the old man's expression drop, his eye-lids lowering slightly.

Then it was gone, and when he met the knight's eyes again, Gorion's face was once more filled with fierce, insurmountable resolve.

"Never."

No one spoke or moved. It seemed to Dorean that even the forest held its breath; there was not one rustle of a branch or leaf. Even the ogres were completely quiet.

Except for the wind, the world was silent.

Then the horned knight spoke again, slowly and clearly, stretching out every uttered syllable.

"I am sorry that you feel that way, old man."

Seconds later, Gorion had pulled Dorean behind him. As the arrows shattered against his _Protection from Arrows_ spell, the wizard looked his ward in the eye.

"Run, child," he said, his voice soft and gentle.

Dorean froze, looking up at his foster father. No response or thought came to him. He starred up at the man's back as he turned to face their foes.

In the edges of his vision from around Gorion, he saw the ogres explode into chunks of blood and gore before they could raise their enormous clubs. Saw the knight march forward, ignoring the blood, organs and body parts striking and splattering against his armour. Yet the dwarf remained frozen, continuing to stare at Gorion's back.

The wizard turned his head to take a quick glance at him.

"Go now!"

Meeting his eye, Dorean closed and set his jaw, glaring at the old man's face, before stepping out from behind the wizard and raising his crossbow at the advancing knight.

He saw a flash of flame a half-second before he reeled sideways and his face hit the dirt, the crossbow flying up and behind him. Searing, tearing pain tore through his temple. Clutching it and feeling the wetness of blood, Dorean looked up. Once again, his vision was filled by fire. Gorion launched the fireball and then immediately turned to Dorean.

"DO AS I SAY! GET OUT OF HERE!"

The dwarf felt his body rise, turn and run for the edge of the clearing, though he was unaware of voluntarily choosing to. Another fire arrow flew past him, missing his head by inches.

Hearing the clash of steel, Dorean darted behind a tree and immediately turned to look around it.

He saw the great-sword cleave the blue-robed wizard from shoulder to waist.

The world seemed to fall away, his vision narrowing into a tunnel, until all he could see was Gorion hitting the ground in a spray of blood and gore.

The knight looked down at his defeated foe, both hands clutching his greatsword and his armour caked in blood. Then he slowly turned his head up and to the side, towards Dorean.

For a long moment, the dwarf continued to look at Gorion. Then, very slowly and without moving his head, he returned the man's gaze.

Gray met gold, both blank.

Then the gold narrowed, and the knight turned to face him.

Dorean's face remained impassive and his body completely still as the knight took several steps towards him.

After a few seconds, he slowly turned around and jogged in a straight line away from the clearing, his expression still devoid of any emotion.

..

* * *

Dorean heard the heaves and grunts of the horned knight before he saw him stagger in front of the tree. The man stopped, looking down at the small glass jar on the ground at the base of the tree. Seemingly unaware of his prey crouching on the branches above him, he raised his foot and brought it down on the jar, crushing it.

Ignoring the pain and wetness flowing from his head and onto his face, the dwarf watched his enemy drag his greatsword along the ground behind him. The blade of the weapon was slicked in blood. Dorean's gaze lingered on it for a few seconds, his expression still blank, before looking back at its owner.

With a loud _clang_ , the man turned around and slumped against the tree. The greatsword fell from his hand as he leaned forward and abruptly vomited. Blood and bile landed next to his dropped weapon.

The man was now directly below him. Without moving his head or eyes, Dorean reached down and drew his knife. He gripped it tightly in both hands, the blade pointing down toward the man's horned helmet.

 _Look up_.

The man bent over further and vomited again before collapsing against the tree, his body sliding down to sit against its base.

Dorean violently grinded his teeth behind his closed mouth. He felt the iron taste of blood on his tongue.

 _Look. Up._

Reaching up with his right hand, Dorean ran it across his blood-covered face and then flicked it down at Sarevok. Droplets of blood fell onto his helmet and shoulders.

The man seemed to tense, and his head slowly began to tilt upwards.

The knuckles of Dorean's hands whitened as he gripped his knife, knees tensing as he leaned forward on the branch.

"Sarevok!"

Barely suppressing a snarl from escaping his lips, Dorean leaned back on the branch. He watched as the woman from the clearing ran to her companion and drop to one knee beside him.

"You are very badly hurt."

"Never mind me," growled the knight. "Did you find him? Is he dead?"

The woman rapidly shook her head, long black hair flowing from side to side. "Forget about him!"

The knight paused, looking at her. "Forget. About. Him?" he said hoarsely between rasps.

The woman leaned forward, moving her face closer to his. "You need healing, now! Let me-"

In an instant, the man was standing over her, his greatsword raised over his head in both hands. She leaned back, looking up at him in terror.

The knight hesitated, then with a roar he turned and swept his weapon towards the tree.

Hurriedly sheathing his knife, Dorean wrapped his arms and legs around the branch as the ground rose up to meet him.

..

* * *

He opened his eyes to a world of blurred images. He was lying in a pile of branches and leaves.

Voices, barely five paces to his right. One the woman's, the other a male, with an accent different from and as unfamiliar as hers.

Keeping very still, he slowly turned his head slightly in their direction.

Through gaps in the branches and leaves, he saw the horned knight supine on the ground, the woman on her knees and leaning over him with her hands at his face. Next to them stood a tall, thin man in bright red robes.

"...not working, he's going into shock!"

"This should not have happened. We each used nearly half the contents of our spell-books placing all those protections on him," said the man coldly.

"We have to get him out of here now!"

"His order was to not allow the ward to escape, under any circumstances."

"Semaj, he is _dying!_ We have to leave now!"

"I agree," said another voice. A woman stepped into Dorean's vision, glancing down at the fallen knight before looking up at the red-robed man.

"I found three of the lookouts dead, and the rest are gone."

Semaj frowned. "Beasts, monsters, watchers?"

The woman shook her head. "Not by the wounds. Someone else is out here."

The wizard looked down to meet the healer-woman's gaze, then up to meet that of the other, nodded silently and raised his hands to weave a spell.

Seconds later, Dorean was alone in the forest. He slowly closed his eyes, recalling every second of what he had witnessed.

After a moment, he opened them, reached for his boot knife, slowly cut the branches and leaves, struggled out of them and stood up.

He heard a rustle to his left and quickly turned, brandishing the knife.

"It's me, Dorean, it's me!"

Through his blurred vision, Dorean spotted a shade of pink.

"It's okay, Dorean. They're gone."

He slowly lowered the knife, his chest heaving.

"You're hurt," said Imoen, looking at the gash on his temple and his bloodied face.

When he took his next breath, Dorean felt every nerve in his body go numb. The knife slipped between his fingers and fell to the ground. He lowered his gaze to the ground, starring at nothing.

"They killed him," he said softly, his voice a complete deadpan.

"Yeah, I...I saw," She paused, her eyes brimming with tears. "I am so sorry."

"I'm going to kill them," said Dorean emotionlessly. "I'm going to kill them all."

Imoen's mouth opened slightly as she gazed at him.

"Dorean..."

He looked up at her. "Every one of them. Every one."

Imoen's jaw slowly closed and she stepped forward, dropping her bow. Dorean did not move as she wrapped her arms around his head and shoulders. He remained still for several more seconds before his body went limp in her arms.

Slowly, he dug his fingers into her clothes and buried his face in her chest.

Imoen held onto him as he sank to his knees, bending down on one knee herself. Looking down, she saw the tears pooling from his open, unblinking eyes. Ignoring both them and the blood staining her clothes, she pressed her lips and chin to the wound on his head.

"It's okay. It's okay."

She cradled his head in her arms and buried her face in his hair.

"I got you, little brother."

His eyes slowly closed, and he silently wept into her bosom.

"I got you."


	7. Chapter 7

"Here," said Imoen gently, offering Dorean another pear.

He turned his head toward her, looking at neither her nor the fruit, then quietly discarded the remains of his first pear, took the offered one and bit slowly into it.

Leaning back against the fallen tree trunk and checking the string of her bow, Imoen watched her roommate's blood-caked face in worried silence; he had not said a word since awakening an hour earlier, and the reddened area on the bandage she had wrapped around his head was now larger than before. From her examination, the wound was deep for a graze and the flesh around it appeared to have been burnt. If he was still feeling any pain, he wasn't showing it.

Dorean chewed slowly on one side of his jaw, leaning forward on the tree-stump and starring at the spot where the armoured knight had vanished from his sight.

When he had finished chewing and then swallowing the piece of fruit, he went still for a long moment.

"I am not going back," he said quietly.

Imoen hesitated before lowering her head, placing her bow on her lap.

"Neither am I," she replied, her tone matching his.

The dwarf eyes widened as he looked at her. Imoen turned her head to the side and away from him, not meeting his gaze.

The image of Gorion falling in a spray of blood filled his mind, and a shadow passed over his face as he starred at her.

He blinked and looked again, noticing the bags under her eyes, short-bow in her lap, and the arrow-quiver propped next to her against the fallen tree.

 _She stayed awake the whole night._

His eye-lids lowered slightly, and the darkness left his face.

He looked down at the half-eaten pear in his hand, then wordlessly held it up to her. She blinked sleepily, looking at it, then smiled and shook her head.

"No, you finish that. I already ate."

Dorean looked at her again, then slowly nodded and took another bite from the pear.

After a moment, Imoen took a deep breath and set aside her bow, placing her hands on her knees.

"I had gotten across the causeway and started down the road when I saw flashes of light in the forest." She paused. "Must have been the hardest I've ever ran in my life." She gave a weak giggle. "And without Reevor hollering at me too."

Dorean blinked again and trailed his eyes from her head to her feet, noting the tears in her clothing, leaves and twigs in her hair, and the cuts on her face, head and forearms.

"When I got close to the...the clearing, I had to sneak past some people," Imoen continued, still not looking at Dorean. "They had swords and didn't look very friendly."

Dorean tilted his head to the side. "Were there any more of them? After I passed out?"

Imoen finally looked at him. "No, there weren't." She paused. "But the whole night, I kept gettin' this feeling like...like we were being watched."

Dorean paused, then casually turned his head left and right as though working a crick from his neck. Aside from a few birds and forest critters, there was no other sign of life around them.

"I wasn't scared, though," Imoen continued. "Which was odd, 'cos I scare easily." She too turned her head to look around them before moving her gaze to the nearly-eaten pear in Dorean's hand. The dwarf looked at her, then remembered that she had taken the fruits from his pack.

"You didn't bring any food with you?"

Imoen's eyes met his for a second before she looked away again. "I was in a hurry."

He blinked and then leaned backwards, looking around her. Aside from the short bow and quiver of arrows, she was carrying nothing. Even her belt was empty.

Silence descended on them once again before Dorean looked away, took a deep breath and tossed aside the remains of his pear.

"We have to return to the clearing."

Imoen's head and eyes moved slightly toward him, though she still avoided his gaze.

"You sure? I-I mean, d'you really want to?"

"He was carrying all the food," Dorean replied flatly. "We'll need it if we are to reach the Friendly Arm." He hopped off the tree stump.

He was reaching for his pack, which was next to Imoen, when she spoke again.

"I saw it happen."

He stopped with one hand on the pack, starring down at her. Her voice was now barely audible.

"I arrived in time to see it happen." She kept her head down, starring at her knees.

It seemed like over a minute went by before Imoen felt his hand on her head. She raised her tear-stained eyes to his face.

"There was nothing you could have done." His voice was now soft and gentle, in near-mimicry of Gorion's. "You would have been killed along with him."

They looked at each other for a long moment before Dorean removed his hand from her head, shouldered his pack and turned back to her with an offered hand.

"Come on."

She looked up at his face and then, closing her eyes and sniffing back another round of tears, took his hand and stood.

..

* * *

Pausing to pick up his still-loaded crossbow off the ground, Dorean followed a few paces behind Imoen. Ignoring the smell of rotting and burnt flesh, he stopped beside her to look upon Gorion.

The wizard's tall body had been bisected from shoulder to waist, and his ribcage and internal organs were exposed. The blue robes were now dyed a deep red.

Widened eyes starred sightlessly at the morning sky. The agape mouth completed the expression of surprise.

A choked sob escaped Imoen as she brought her hand to her mouth. It took her a long moment to control herself, her body shuddering as she fought back the tears threatening to flood her eyes, before she turned to look down at Dorean.

Unlike the previous night, there was no sign of tears from him this time. He stood very still, crossbow loosely held in one hand and pointed at the ground, starring unblinking down at the corpse.

"They didn't take anything," he said, his voice and expression as dead as the man before them.

Without thinking, Imoen turned to him, dropped to one knee and embraced him from the side, burying her chin in his hair and linen-wrapped head. The dwarf did not move, continuing to stare at Gorion's body.

After a moment, she leaned back and released the hug.

"I'm going to search him now. You just stay here. Okay?"

Three seconds passed without Dorean moving or even blinking before he gave a slow nod. Rubbing his shoulder, Imoen gave it a pat, then moved over to and got down on both knees next to the body.

The first thing she picked up was the food-bag. Giving it a once-over and seeing no damage, she placed it aside. Then, with an apologetic look to Dorean, she reached out and, ignoring the blood, shifted Gorion's body to remove his pack.

The minutes went by in silence aside from the remote calls of birds and critters. As she gingerly removed the pouches that remained intact on Gorion's waist and secured them to her own belt, Imoen stole glances at Dorean; he still had not moved a muscle since stopping in front of the body, and his gaze remained fixed on it.

It took her a few tries to free the dagger from the dead man's grip. Removing its sheath from his belt was much easier.

Securing the dagger to her own belt, Imoen leaned back on her knees for a moment, breathing deeply through her mouth.

Her eyes went to the leather-bound book visible beneath his robes; it was undamaged and clean of any blood or dirt. Imoen reached out with a trembling hand, then hesitated, her eyes moving to Gorion's face.

"Take it," Dorean whispered.

She looked at him. He had finally turned his gaze from his foster father and was now looking at her.

"He would have wanted you to have it."

Blinking back tears, Imoen smiled gratefully at him before turning back to the spell-book. It proved surprisingly easy to remove, and she immediately placed it in Gorion's pack.

Walking over to her, Dorean handed her a cloth from his pack to wipe her blood-covered hands, then helped her put on the pack.

They stood side by side, looking down at the old man. Imoen then turned to speak to Dorean and saw a shadow rise from behind their own, falling across Gorion's body.

In the second that it took both of them to spin around, a hand shot out and seized Imoen by her throat. She froze in mid-turn with her arms at her sides, starring wide-eyed at the tall stranger in front of her.

The second passed, and Dorean brought his crossbow up towards the man's chest.

"Let her go, _now_ ," he growled.

The green-robed man did not answer or even acknowledge his existence. Bright, vibrant emerald-coloured eyes starred straight into Imoen's own darker-shaded jade. Aside from them being as wide as dinner plates, he showed no emotion.

Dorean raised the crossbow slightly, aiming directly at the stranger's heart. "Let. Her. Go," he snarled, gritted teeth showing through his beard.

Again the man ignored him. Slowly, he tilted his head to the side, appearing to examine Imoen's face.

Dorean took another step forward and sideways, pressing the tip of the bolt into the man's side just beneath his arm.

"You have three seconds. One."

"D-Dorean."

"Two." His finger tightened on the trigger.

 _"Dorean."_

His eyes went to Imoen. The girl was no longer looking up at the man's face, but at him.

The dwarf went very still, his eyes fixed on hers. Then, very slowly, he took his right hand off the fore-grip of the crossbow and moved it under his chin.

Instead of flesh or cloth, his fingers touched metal.

For a long moment, no one moved. Then, his eye-lids lowering, Dorean slowly moved his crossbow away from the tall stranger and held it out to the side with the loaded bolt pointed up. He felt something behind him gently but firmly remove the weapon from his grasp.

"Now," said a clear and calm voice behind Dorean's ear. "I'm gonna take me blade off ye. No sudden moves, do ye understand?"

"Yes," the dwarf answered. He took a low, deep breath and held it, curling the fingers of his right hand.

"An' no reachin' fer the blades in yer belt, boot and sleeve." The voice paused. Dorean leaned back as he felt the dagger press lightly against his throat. "Do ye understand?"

Closing his eyes, Dorean released the breath he was holding nosily through his nose, grinding his teeth together. "Yes," he hissed.

Several seconds passed in silence. Then, having heard no sound or movement behind him, Dorean opened his eyes, paused, and moved his hand to his throat again. The blade was gone.

Keeping his arms out, he stepped slowly to the side, turning to face both the green-robed stranger and his partner.

Before him stood a halfling dressed in brown clothing of the exact same colour as his skin. Aside from long, pony-tailed, coal-black hair, the only other distinctive colour was his eyes; pools of empty, cold black. Dorean met them with a cold, blank stare of his own.

They both stood very still, eyes firmly on each other. Dorean resisted an urge to glance at the human stranger or Imoen.

The halfling's right hand was now empty; aside from the short sword on his back and Dorean's crossbow in his left hand, now pointed at its owner, the dwarf could not see any other weapon on the man. He felt cold sweat on his bandaged head.

 _I'll never reach my weapons in time. Not like this._

He paused in thought, struggling to keep his expression blank.

 _Get him to lower his guard. One second'll be enough._

He opened his mouth to speak.

"Heya," said a cheerful voice.

Dorean and the halfling blinked at the exact same time, then turned their heads to look at Imoen.

"Hello," replied the green-robed man pleasantly, his head and eyes still tilted and wide.

Dorean and the halfling blinked again.

"I'm Imoen," said Imoen, sounding remarkably calm and looking more curious than afraid or surprised.

"Imoen," said the man.

"Yea, that's my name."

"Imoen," he repeated, slower this time.

Silence.

"What's yours?"

The man tilted his head further. "Hmm?"

"Your name, good sir. What is it?"

Pause.

"My name?" whispered the man.

"Yeah," said Imoen. Ignoring the hand around her throat, she clasped her own hands behind her back in a formal posture of welcome and greeting.

Dorean looked at the halfling. The halfling looked at him. They blinked at each other, then went back to starring at Imoen.

The man looked vacantly off to the side at nothing, seemingly lost in thought or memory. Over a minute passed in this fashion, with neither Dorean nor the halfling moving at all and Imoen politely awaiting his answer, before he finally turned his green eyes on her again.

"Xzar. My name is Xzar."

"Very pleased to meet you, Xzar."

He tilted his head widely to the side, bringing his ear to his shoulder.

"You are?"

"Of course."

Xzar starred at her. So did Dorean and the halfling.

"And what about you?" said Imoen, turning her head awkwardly to look at the halfling. "What's your name?"

The halfling starred at her, his expression blank.

Glancing at him and without moving his head from facing Imoen, Dorean slowly shifted his right foot an inch forward across the ground towards him. Without taking his eyes off Imoen, the halfling raised the crossbow from Dorean's chest to his head. The dwarf stopped moving.

After a moment, the halfling finally spoke.

"Montaron."

"Pleased to meet you too, Montaron," said Imoen.

Silence fell. Imoen turned back to Xzar.

"Xzar, why do you have your hand on my throat?"

Xzar blinked, his head still sideways, then looked down at his own hand, as though he had just noticed where it was. Imoen spoke up again.

"Could you let go of me, please?"

Xzar blinked.

"It's making me uncomfortable," she added apologetically.

He blinked again, then nodded and promptly removed his hand. He stood still, hands at his sides, head tilted and eyes fixed on Imoen.

The pink girl blew out a breath through her mouth, then turned to Montaron with her hands still clasped behind her back in formal greeting.

"Now that we are all friends, Mister Montaron, would you kindly point that crossbow away from my brother? I think it's making him a tad nervous."

Montaron's eyes narrowed to slits and he tightened his grip on the weapon.

"He won't do anything foolish, would you, Dorean?" Imoen added hurriedly.

"No," replied Dorean, keeping his eyes on the halfling. "No, I won't."

"There's that, then," said Imoen. "Mister Montaron, if you please?"

Montaron shared a glance with Xzar, then gave a short nod and lowered the crossbow. Dorean lowered his arms to his sides, releasing the breath he was holding.

"Xzar, Montaron," said Imoen. "I'd like you to meet my brother, Dorean." She raised an arm and pointed at the dwarf in an introductory gesture.

Looking away from Montaron, Dorean turned to face Xzar, his gray eyes meeting the man's green.

"Brother," said Xzar very softly. He paused, then abruptly smiled and held out his hand. "Pleased to meet you," he purred.

Dorean hesitated, looking at the offered hand and then at Xzar's face. Montaron's only reaction was to raise an eyebrow. Imoen simply blinked.

After a moment, he took the hand, blinking at how cold it felt. Xzar kept it still, so Dorean bobbed it up and down in a short, awkward handshake before releasing it.

Everyone looked at each other for a moment before Imoen spoke.

"So what brings you two gentlemen out here?"

"We have been sent to investigate the shortages and thefts of iron in the Sword Coast," declared Xzar, clasping his hands behind his back in a mimicry of Imoen's posture. Montaron quietly gave his partner a venomous glare which the man completely ignored. "The mayor of Nashkel has arranged to meet with us," Xzar added, raising his chin and puffing out his chest.

Dorean frowned, his eyes moving between Xzar and Montaron. "You're mercenaries?"

Xzar's chest deflated and he pouted down at Dorean. Montaron glared at the dwarf and answered with an unhelpful grunt before turning to look at Gorion's body.

"He a friend'a yers?"

Dorean went very quiet, starring at the halfling's neck. Imoen glanced worriedly at her roommate, then nodded at Montaron. "Yes, he was. A very dear friend."

"Mm," answered Montaron. "Put up quite the fight, din't he?" He turned his head and looked around the clearing, his eyes sweeping over the charred bodies of the archers and exploded remains of the ogres.

Something clicked in Dorean's mind, and his head turned from left to right as he looked between the two men. "You killed the lookouts."

Montaron turned to look at him, and for a second Dorean thought he saw amusement on the halfling's otherwise blank face. "Aye. Me an' the wizard 'ere saw the fireworks an' thought we'd take a look. Fools got in our way."

Dorean exchanged a look with Imoen, and the message passed silently between them.

 _They are the ones who were watching us all night._

Dorean glanced at Xzar; the man was now starring silently at Gorion's body and appeared to have lost awareness of anything else. The dwarf felt a shiver run down his back; Xzar's expression was now completely unreadable.

"Well, thank you, sir," said Imoen, bowing her head slightly to Montaron. "You probably saved our lives."

Montaron glared at her. "What exactly d'ye mean by 'a very dear friend'?" He turned a cold, hard gaze onto Dorean.

 _Lying to this man would be a mistake._

"I am his ward."

The halfling raised an eyebrow. "Foster father, eh?" His lips parted to ask another question.

"We will help you bury him," said Xzar abruptly, his face still unreadable. Dorean, Imoen and Montaron all turned to look at him. "And by 'we', I mean me and _you_ ," he added, looking pointedly at Montaron.

He then walked over to and behind Montaron, took two small trenching shovels from his pack, handed one to the bewildered halfling, then walked to a spot a few feet to the side of Gorion's body and promptly began digging, bending over awkwardly due to the shovel's short length.

A few minutes passed with Dorean, Imoen and Montaron silently exchanging glances in between starring at Xzar, before the wizard looked up and tilted his head, giving the halfling a reproachful look.

With a snort and a cold warning glare to both thieves, Montaron walked over to Xzar, set down his pack and Dorean's crossbow, and began digging himself. He did not take off the short-sword on his back.

Imoen and Dorean exchanged stares, then simultaneously moved to stand next to each other and quietly watch the two strangers.

Montaron dug in silence, mechanically shovelling and dumping earth and dirt to the side. He threw dirty looks at Xzar whenever he had to turn to face him, and gave Dorean one as well when he noticed the dwarf starring at him.

Dorean looked away from the unfriendly halfling and watched Xzar instead. The wizard was digging at a slower, more relaxed pace, and was now humming a tune to himself.

Dorean cocked his head very slightly at the feeling of familiarity that came over him.

"You know what song that is?" he asked quietly, moving his head closer to Imoen while keeping his eyes on Xzar.

"It's a ballad," she replied, also watching the man. "I think I've read it, but I don't remember which."

"S'called 'The Wizards' Tune'," said Montaron, not looking up from his work. Dorean and Imoen looked at him. The halfling said nothing else.

After a moment, Dorean walked over to Gorion's body and, without looking at his face, reached down and gently removed the brooch of his cloak. He stood up slowly, looking at the object in his palm, and walked back to Imoen while keeping his eyes on it.

The girl reached out and traced a finger over the brooch.

"A Crescent moon and harp surrounded by four stars," she whispered. A moment passed before her eyes widened and she turned them onto her roommate. "This is a Harper symbol." They looked at each other before Imoen turned to the other two men. "Are you Harpers too?"

Xzar froze, dropping his shovel and spilling dirt onto his robes. With his back to them, neither thief saw his expression.

Montaron planted his own shovel in the ground and leaned on it, meeting their expectant gazes. The corner of his lip curled into a smirk, and he simply shook his head at them. Then he turned, flicked dirt toward his partner with the end of his shovel and resumed digging.

Xzar turned and gave the halfling a malignant, tight-lipped glare. He picked up his own shovel, gripping it tightly in both hands, and stared intently at the back of Montaron's head.

The halfling did not pause in his work, though he noticeably slowed, his face losing what little expression it had earlier.

After a moment, Xzar looked up at Dorean and Imoen, smiled at them, and then went back to digging.

He began humming the ballad again, as though he had never been interrupted.  
Dorean and Imoen looked at each other, then quietly sat down to share a meal from the food-bag.

..

* * *

They gathered large stones and placed them next to the shallow grave. None of them raised the subject of destroying the circle patterns.

Montaron and Xzar stood at both ends of Gorion's body, the halfling at the legs and Xzar at the head. They shared a look before picking up and carrying their respective halves to the grave, Montaron taking less time and effort than his partner and not bothering to keep them appearing intact.

Imoen closed her eyes and looked away. Dorean's followed the short and final journey of his foster father, his face blank. He then slowly walked over to the two men and nodded to Montaron. The halfling starred at him, then wordlessly handed him the trenching shovel.

"Wait," started Imoen. "You're hurt-"

"No. You stay there," answered Dorean sternly.

Feeling the dwarf's gaze on him, Xzar met his eyes, gave him a slow smile, then shovelled dirt from the pile next to the grave and slowly poured it in. Dorean stood still for a few seconds, watching him, then quietly moved past Montaron to the dirt-pile.

As Dorean and Xzar began pouring dirt over the body, Montaron moved to stand next to Imoen, wiping dirt and blood off his hands. Noticing the direction of his gaze, Imoen too looked at Xzar; the man was no longer humming, though now he wore a small smile, as though enjoying a pleasant hobby.

Turning to her, Montaron thumped the food-bag with the back of his hand. Imoen blinked, then opened it and handed him a block of cheese. He took it and then reached into the bag himself, removing a wine bottle. Turning back to watch Xzar and Dorean, he ignored her blinking at him.

Imoen waited until Montaron had swallowed his first mouthful of cheese before speaking.

"Why did he grab my throat?" she asked, her tone light and innocent.

Montaron paused with his mouth half-way to the cheese. He lowered the food and turned his gaze to her.

"Hells if I know."

Dorean did not lift his head from his work, though Imoen saw his eyes narrow at the sound of Montaron uncorking the bottle.

..

* * *

They stood together in front of the stone-covered grave while Montaron and Xzar stood off to the side.

"Do you want to say something?" Imoen asked gently, squeezing the dwarf's shoulder.

"No."

She paused. "Do...you want me to say something?"

"No." He did not look up at her.  
She watched him blink as the tears silently flowed down his face and gathered in his beard, then clumsily hugged him one-handed to her side. He returned the gesture, reaching around her back and placing a hand on her waist.

After a long moment, they turned away from the grave and went over to Xzar and Montaron.

"Thank you very much for your help," said Imoen.

"You want something in return," said Dorean brusquely, picking up and shouldering his pack.

"Hmm," said Xzar, his head now tilted to the side as he starred down at them both. "Perhaps you might go with us to Nashkel?" Both thieves looked up at him while Montaron casually picked at dirt in his fingernails. "We have decided that you might be useful for our investigation."

Dorean and Imoen exchanged glances; Montaron and Xzar had not said a word to each other since they appeared to them in the clearing.

"However," continued Xzar. "I will not hold you to your gratitude. You may go with us, or you may not."

"Let yer conscience be yer guide," said Montaron, starring straight at Dorean. He was still holding the dwarf's crossbow.

Dorean looked at Montaron, then at Imoen who was now looking at Xzar. After a moment, he turned back to the two men.

"We are going to the Friendly Arm," he said tersely. "My father had arranged to meet someone there." He paused, watching their expressions, neither of which changed in the slightest; Xzar's head did not move from its tilted position nor his gaze from Imoen, and Montaron continued to stare at Dorean. "Would you mind if we go there first?"

"Not at all," replied Xzar, now turning his emerald eyes on Dorean. The dwarf resisted an urge to blink. "It's best to travel accompanied, would you agree, Monty?" He gave the halfling a wide, toothy grin.

Instead of answering him, Montaron picked up and shouldered his pack one-handed, then removed the bolt from and held Dorean's crossbow out to him with the business end pointed down.

Dorean nodded and took hold of it. The halfling did not relinquish his grasp.

"If ye ever think'a pointin' it me way," he said, his voice calm and even. "Better not miss."

He starred into the dwarf's eyes for five seconds before releasing the crossbow, then promptly turned and walked away, ignoring the gazes of the other two, twirling the bolt between his fingers and stepping over the remains of the ogres.

Xzar huffed at his companion, then turned back to the two thieves. "Oh, don't mind him. He just wants attention. Always does." He leaned down toward them and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. "Most people usually don't ever notice him. It makes him very sad."

He straightened his back so swiftly that both Imoen and Dorean jumped, then with a dramatic flourish gestured for them to lead the way.

Dorean hesitated, then reached into his pocket and removed the Harper brooch, holding it in his palm and looking down at it.

He closed his eyes and once again saw Gorion falling to the knight's great-sword.

 _Run, child._

He felt Imoen's hand on his shoulder. After a moment, he closed his fingers around the brooch, returned it to his pocket and slung the crossbow over his shoulder and onto his pack.

He inhaled deeply and released through his nose, then opened his eyes and walked past and under Xzar's arm after Montaron.

Imoen watched him for a few seconds, then nodded politely to Xzar and followed Dorean, ducking under the man's arm.

Xzar glanced after them, then turned his gaze back to the grave. His bright green eyes lingered on it for several seconds before he turned to follow his companions.


	8. Chapter 8

After they emerged from the forest and started following the eastward road, Imoen began peppering Xzar with questions and small talk. The wizard seemed simultaneously nonplussed and pleased at the attention, pausing awkwardly before answering her questions shortly and vaguely at times, then quickly going into rambling tangents at others.

Glancing over his shoulder at them, Dorean felt that Imoen was speaking with more than one person, yet seemed more curious and intrigued than disturbed.

He blinked and listened, catching the tail end of one of Xzar's ramblings.

"...and then, after he stopped calling for his mother, I asked him again, and he told us where his friends were staying. Then I poked him in the chest with a fire poker!"

Dorean's eyes flicked to Imoen; she had slowed down her walk, staring up at the tall man. Xzar's smile faltered and he blinked at her, awaiting her response.

"...did that really happen?"

Xzar turned away, looking embarrassed.

"Hm. Well, I may have made up that last part. Or the second one. Or all of it."

"Oh."

Silence fell between them for the first time in hours, Xzar looking away while Imoen stared up at him. Then she took a deep breath, puffing out her chest.

"So, you're from Moonsea?" she asked casually. "That's north of here, right?"

Xzar's hair whirled as he quickly turned his head to face her, his smile back and all embarrassment gone.

"Yes, that is right!" He paused and wagged a finger at her. "North-East, young lady, " he corrected, his tone now suddenly resembling that of an old scholar. "North of here lies the High Forest, wherein dwell the elves of old."

"I like elves," Imoen said innocently. Xzar leaned close, his face inches from hers with one eye narrowed and the other widened.

"Dooo yooou?" he purred. "And how many of them have you met, pray tell?"

Imoen leaned back from him, blinking rapidly. "Urm. None, actually. But I have read-"

Xzar suddenly straightened himself, lifting his chin in admonishment and wagging his finger again. "Do not believe everything you read, dear girl," he said, using his old-scholar tone again.

He dropped his finger, beamed down at her, then started to talk about Moonsea as though she had not brought up the subject of elves. Imoen blinked up at him again, looked to Dorean, shrugged, then waited for Xzar to pause for breath before interrupting him.

"So did you travel through Anauroch on your way here?"

The wizard paused, his hands held out in front of him in mid-description of his homeland.

"The Great Sand Sea?" He said absently. "No, I was not in Moonsea when I was tasked to investigate this crisis. We were much closer than that."

Ahead of them and several paces to Dorean's side, Montaron very slowly turned his head, though not enough to glance at his partner.

Dorean glanced at him before his own eyes met Imoen's.

The words passed between them silently.

 _Moonsea,_ said Imoen.

 _Mercenaries,_ said Dorean.

 _Zhentarim._

Xzar either did not notice, or chose to ignore both them and his partner; he continued to share his story of travelling with Montaron (a most unpleasant travelling companion, he added) to the Sword Coast.

Imoen held Dorean's gaze for a moment before turning back to Xzar. The dwarf looked at Montaron and saw that the halfling had quietly resumed his focus on the road ahead.

"If you wish it, I could tell her to stop talking to him," Dorean offered. The halfling did not so much as glance at him, and Dorean had turned his own gaze to the road by the time he answered.

"S' fine. Least now someone else is around to put up wit' 'im." He paused before closing his mouth, and it seemed to Dorean that he wanted to say something further and decided not to. The dwarf hesitated before speaking again, choosing his words carefully.

"You and Xzar do not appear to like each other very much."

Montaron glanced sideways at him before looking back to the road. "We don't," he answered shortly.

Dorean took a breath. "So why do you work with him?"

This time, Montaron turned his head to face Dorean fully, eyes narrowed and mouth closed into a thin line. The dwarf raised his hands in front of him. "Hey, I'm only curious," he said calmly. "Just a friendly question."

"Keep askin' 'em," the halfling replied, his voice low. "An' I won't be so friendly."

They both slowed their walking, staring at each other. Behind them, Imoen and Xzar glanced at their respective partners. After a moment, Dorean raised his hands again.

"Look, I'm sorry if I-"

The halfling's head whirled to face ahead of them before he immediately turned off the road and into the undergrowth.

Dorean blinked, then turned to look and immediately went for his crossbow at the sight of red robes.

He paused with it halfway off his back upon seeing a thick white beard and pointy hat, then slowly moved it into his arms, at the ready but not hostile.

The wizard, for he could be nothing else, had stopped as well upon seeing them.

As he looked at the stranger's face, the next few seconds slowed down to a crawl for Dorean.

He saw the man's face fall, and his eyes moving not onto any of the three people in front of him, but past and around them before settling on Dorean's face. For a brief half-second, the old stranger appeared to lose all expression, his fingers tightening around his staff.

Then time went back to normal, and the old man's face was now warm and friendly, wearing a smile crooked by the pipe between his lips. He raised a hand in greeting.

"Ho there!" He walked toward them, ignoring Dorean's held crossbow. Imoen glanced at the dwarf, then held up her own hand and waved.

"Hello! Nice to know we aren't the only ones on the road." She moved next to Dorean. "You're the first person we've met in hours."

The stranger seemed to relax, his smile widening as he stopped in front of the duo. "Well, not to complain, friends, but I would say you have had it easy compared to me. It's been nigh unto a tenday since I've seen a soul walking this road, and I've been without decent conversation since."

Imoen's eyes widened. "Ten days? Wow." She looked at Dorean. "I'd go crazy in two."

The old man chuckled audibly through his large beard. Acting as though to relax his grip on the crossbow, Dorean shifted it slightly so that the loaded bolt was now pointed at the man's knee.

"Where did you set out from, sir, if I may ask?" he asked politely. The stranger's eyes met his, and again, for a half-second, his expression turned cold before he smiled and answered cheerily.

"From the city of Baldur's Gate." He gave a wave to the horizon with his free hand. "To the north."

Dorean frowned. "And you haven't seen anyone else on the road?"

The stranger lowered his hand. "Not a soul." He sighed. "I suppose the recent troubles have been keeping most folks in their homes. Travelling nowadays appears to be the domain of either the desperate or the deranged." He cocked his head, causing his hat to wobble as he smiled down at them. "If thou wouldst pardon my intrusion, may I inquire which pertains to thee?"

The two thieves glanced at each other, and Imoen saw from the corner of her eye that Dorean's crossbow, still pointed at the stranger's leg, was now trembling very slightly from his tightened grip. The finger of his left hand was on the trigger, a half-inch away from launching the bolt.

"A fair bit of desperate, actually," she said, quickly looking back to the man and straightening her back. "Might you know the way to the Friendly Arm Inn? We're told that some friends of ours might be there."

The old stranger blinked at her and smiled, nodding his head. "That I would." He scratched his bearded chin. "The inn lies a short distance to the north, and this road should lead you there. Just make sure to follow the directions at the crossroads."

Imoen bowed her head. "Thank you, sir." She nudged Dorean with her foot, and he bowed as well, keeping his eyes on the stranger's and noticing that they were moving over his blood-stained bandage and the cuts on Imoen's face and arms.

"I have no doubt," said the old man slowly, "that thy friends shall be there, waiting with open arms." He paused for a moment before speaking again.

"You have my sympathies for any hardships the road may have inflicted upon thee."

Dorean and Imoen blinked at him; his tone was now much more gentle than before. He lowered his head, the wide brim of his hat casting his face into shadow.

"Though I am certain everything shall turn out for the best."

For a brief second, he looked past them, and Dorean resisted the urge to look behind him. The old man raised his head and smiled again.

"My, but I have wasted too much of thy time and said too much already."

"Oh, not at all, sir," replied Imoen, smiling back at him. He raised his hat and tipped it to her.

"I shall take my leave, and wish thee all the best."

Without further ado, he replaced his hat on his head and walked past them. Dorean and Imoen turned, watching him.

Xzar stood very still, back ramrod straight, arms at his sides and his chin slightly raised as he watched the stranger approach him. His expression was blank, though his eyes gleamed brightly.

The stranger passed very close to him, nearly brushing his arm, and it seemed that he slowed down his walk as he did so. The two wizards met each other's gaze for a very brief moment before the red-robed one passed by him. Xzar remained where he stood, his eyes on the spot where the man had walked out of his vision.

"Well," said Imoen after a moment. "That was odd."

"More than odd," said a voice behind them. Dorean and Imoen jumped and turned around to see Montaron standing behind them, watching the stranger's retreating back.

"What d'you mean?" Imoen asked.

"What I said," he answered unhelpfully. For a few seconds, he and Xzar looked at each other, and Dorean recognized the silent passing of words before the halfling then looked down at Dorean's crossbow.

Looking at it himself, the dwarf realized that he was gripping it so tightly that only his gloves were keeping his fingers from digging into the wood.

They both lifted their eyes to each other, and Montaron raised an eyebrow before turning away. Imoen blinked, then adjusted her pack and followed him.

Dorean glanced back at Xzar; the man was now walking toward them, shoulders hunched and looking at the ground. The dwarf watched him for several seconds before turning to catch up with Imoen.

..

* * *

Xzar remained at the rear of the group, head lowered and apparently in deep thought. Occasionally he would mutter to himself, scratch his arms, rub the stubble on his chin and run his hands through his hair. Dorean and Imoen, now walking side by side, occasionally shot glances at the clearly agitated wizard. Montaron ignored all of them.

A few hours later, it became clear to them that the old stranger had not exaggerated in his claim of not seeing anyone for days.

"This is the Coast Way, ain't it?" Imoen said aloud, turning to Dorean. "Supposed to be one of the busiest roads in these parts."

"Yeah," Dorean answered, eyes scanning their surroundings. He moved his crossbow, which had remained in his arms since their encounter with the red-robed man, to one hand, resting it against his left shoulder with the point facing up, and stroked his beard. "It's between the Gate, Beregost and Candlekeep."

Imoen stroked her own chin as well. "The supply wagons come to the Keep at least twice a week. Usually more. We..." She paused, closing her eyes and rubbing her forehead. "We used to nick things from them after they're left outside the inn."

She looked down to see Dorean staring up at her, scrutinizing the bags under her eyes and her head lolling very slightly from side to side. Before she could reassure him, the dwarf turned away, returned his crossbow to its previous position in both his arms, and quickened his pace to move up to Montaron. She blinked at his back.

"We need to take a short rest," the dwarf said quietly.

"No."

"It will only be for a few hours."

"Ye have me answer."

Dorean felt a muscle in his jaw twitch, and his fingers again involuntarily tightened around his crossbow. After a moment of seeing no change in the halfling's expression or demeanour, he fell back next to Imoen. She smiled down at him and gently ruffled his hair, taking care not to touch the bandage. He did not look up at her.

..

* * *

About an hour later, they finally encountered another person on the road, carrying a long stick over his shoulder from which hung a few dead rabbits.

He introduced himself as Aoln, a local hunter in the employ of the Friendly Arm. This time Montaron did not disappear off the path. Instead, he stood off to the side watching Aoln with obvious distrust while Dorean and Imoen spoke to him.

Dorean questioned the man on the dangers in the area while Imoen asked him about his hunting exploits. Aoln kept glancing at Montaron's unpleasant leer and Xzar's bright-eyed stare while the other two attempted to divert his attention.

"If it's so dangerous out here, why are you alone?" asked Dorean. "Wouldn't it be safer in a group?"

"You're one to talk," Aoln muttered audibly, glancing again at Xzar and Montaron. He then raised his voice, seemingly not realizing that Dorean had heard him. "I am a hunter, see. Have to stalk animals quiet-like. Not so easy when there's lots of other folks around, right?" He smiled nervously at Montaron. The halfling did not smile back.

After a moment, Aoln quickly told them he had meat to catch and bid them farewell.

He moved past Dorean and Imoen. Xzar then stepped to the side, blocking his way. The hunter swallowed and stepped back.

"I-I don't have any money."

Dorean and Imoen glanced at each other. Aoln's free hand drifted toward the knife on his belt. Montaron remained very still, watching the hand.

"Your rabbits," Xzar said suddenly, pointing at the dead animals without taking his eyes off Aoln's face. "I want them." He lowered his hand. "How much are they worth?"

Aoln blinked and then released his held breath. So did Dorean and Imoen, who then smiled and stepped forward.

As she bargained over the price while Xzar examined the dead rabbits, Dorean looked at Imoen for a moment before going to Montaron. The halfling had folded his arms and was watching his partner intently as the man moved to stand next to Imoen, patting her gently on the back as she sleepily rubbed her forehead again. He did not look at the dwarf.

"Gibberlings and wolves," said Dorean. "They are more active at night than in the day."

"All the more reason fer us to keep movin'," Montaron answered, still looking at Xzar and Imoen. Dorean briefly closed his eyes, then inhaled and exhaled deeply before speaking again.

"We won't reach the inn before nightfall." He pointed a casual finger at the sky. "The sun will be setting in a few hours."

The halfling finally looked at him. Dorean held his gaze and kept speaking.

"When it does, we should stop and make a fire. It'll keep the beasts away." He paused. "I believe it would be better than to risk being attacked in the dark."

Montaron blinked slowly and impassively at him, and it occurred to Dorean that halflings and dwarves have low-light vision. He gritted his teeth behind his closed mouth, grateful for his thick beard, and awaited the man's answer.

"Got yer own tinderbox?"

Dorean resisted the impulse to appear relaxed, maintaining his calm demeanour. "Yes, I do."

"Ye'll be gatherin' the wood, then." The halfling turned back to Xzar, Imoen and Aoln, and spoke no further.

As Dorean walked over to join Imoen, Montaron watched, eyes narrowed and unblinking, as Xzar smiled radiantly at the pink girl for successfully haggling an exasperated and nervous Aoln down to half his asking price.

..

* * *

When night fell, Montaron kept the group moving for another half-hour before selecting a spot about thirty paces off from the road on the edge of the trees.

After taking off his own pack, Dorean helped Imoen with Gorion's. "You should get some rest." He laid the pack on the ground at her feet. Imoen faced him and kneeled down.

"In a minute. Gotta check you first." She brought her hands to the bandage on his head. Dorean brushed them away.

"There's no need."

"'Course there is," said Imoen. "It's still bleeding."

"It's not a problem for me. You need to sleep."

She paused for a moment, then placed her hands on his shoulders.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

He realized then that she was not referring to his wound. He paused, looking into her eyes.

"I'm fine," he said gently. "Get some sleep."

Imoen gave him a hug, then laid down and placed her head on Gorion's pack.

"G'night, little brother."

She was asleep in seconds.

Dorean watched her for a moment before removing his cloak and laying it over her.

He looked up to see Xzar watching him, his head cocked to the side.

Picking up a pebble, Montaron held it between thumb and forefinger before bouncing it off Dorean's leg. The dwarf winced and turned to him.

"Firewood."

Dorean's eyes narrowed slightly for a second before he quickly looked away. "Right."

Feeling both Xzar and Montaron's eyes on him, he slung his crossbow onto his back before moving away to gather twigs, brush and stones.

..

* * *

When Dorean returned ten minutes later, he found Montaron sharpening a large, curved knife with a whetstone and Xzar skinning one of the rabbits he had bought from Aoln. The wizard was using a large rock as a table and the surface was now red with blood.

While Montaron did not lift his head from his work or indeed acknowledge Dorean, Xzar looked up upon seeing the dwarf approach, stopped his work and resumed quietly staring at him wide-eyed. Dorean hesitated for a moment before deciding to just ignore him.

After several clumsy and unsuccessful attempts at lighting the fire, Montaron growled, walked over, pushed Dorean aside and did it himself before tossing him his tinderbox.

Taking a moment to glare maliciously at the back of the halfling's neck, Dorean then sat down next to Imoen, placing his back against his own pack. Resting his crossbow on his lap, he then looked down at her.

Lying on her side, her head was now on the edge of Gorion's pack and a few inches from falling onto the grass. Dorean leaned over, took her by the shoulders, gently pushed her sideways until her head was on its centre, then adjusted the cloak to cover her more thoroughly. He then leaned back and watched her, his expression pensive, before turning his gaze to the night sky.

"You care for each other."

Dorean looked at Xzar. The man had spoken so softly than the dwarf had barely heard him over the crackling of the fire. He blinked, unsure of how to answer.

"You care for each other," Xzar repeated slowly. He sat down the knife he was using to skin the rabbit, got up and walked over to Dorean. "Don't you?" He sat down on the grass cross-legged in front of the dwarf.

Dorean hesitated, looking up at the man. The wizard's green eyes, reflected by the firelight, shone even brighter than in the daytime. _There's something almost...unnatural about them._

"I have known her for ten years," he said quietly.

"Ten years," Xzar said. He looked off to the side at nothing, blood-covered hands on his thighs, seemingly lost in thought or memory. "Ten. Years."

Dorean blinked, and then wondered why he was not unnerved or afraid. The man was clearly of unstable mind, and only earlier that day had snuck up on them and grabbed Imoen by her throat for no apparent reason.

 _And why is she not afraid of him either?_

"Your wound," said Xzar softly and abruptly, turning back to Dorean. "I want to see it."

Montaron, moving only his eyes, paused in his whetting to look at them. Dorean hesitated for a long moment before he slowly unwinded the bandage around his head. He winced as the final layer peeled off his skin.

"Hmm," said Xzar. He inched closer towards Dorean, leaning in to examine the wound while keeping his own hands away from it.

"How bad is it?" asked Dorean.

"Worse than you said."

"'Nother inch to the right, and ye'd be dead," Montaron commented.

Xzar leaned back, looking at the bloody state of the removed bandages, and then at the dwarf's face. "It hurts. Doesn't it?"

Dorean did not answer. He returned Xzar's gaze. A smile came to the wizard, spreading very slowly across his face.

"You lied to her."

There was silence broken only by the fire. "Why did you?" Xzar finally asked, his green eyes staring into Dorean's gray.

Dorean took a few moments, unblinking and unchanging in expression, before he answered.

"I do not want her to worry about me."

Xzar's smile faded as slowly as it formed. He tilted his head to the side and glanced at the sleeping girl next to Dorean.

Then he silently reached into his robes and removed a vial which Dorean recognized as a healing potion.

As Xzar removed the stopper and leaned forward with the vial, Dorean jerked back suddenly, his left hand closing around the hilt of his belt knife.

"Jus' let him," said Montaron, returning to his whetting. "I could smell it from 'ere."

It took Dorean over ten seconds to release his knife.

 _If they want to kill me, I'd already be dead. Also, they wouldn't need to waste any poison._ _I'm not that hard a target,_ he added as a bitter afterthought.

Xzar quietly poured the liquid onto the wound. Dorean closed his eyes and resisted flinching as he felt the tear in his skin and flesh close up. When he opened them, the wizard wordlessly handed him the vial, now smeared with rabbit-blood, then returned to his rock and resumed skinning the carcass.

Dorean watched him for a moment with abject curiosity before lifting the vial to his lips and draining it in one gulp.

 _Huh. Tastes different from the ones in the clinic._

He wiped his beard on his sleeve and then placed the vial on the ground in front of him.

"Get some rest," Montaron ordered, his voice calm and stoic. "We move in four hours."

 _I suppose he's our leader now_ , Dorean thought, glancing at the halfling. _For the moment._

As he tossed a twig onto the fire, the dwarf felt his eye-lids grow heavy and a feeling of drowsiness came upon him.

His head drooped, and his eyes immediately went to the vial. Neither Xzar nor Montaron moved or looked at him.

He staggered groggily to his feet and turned towards Montaron, pulling his knife from its belt-sheath. The halfling froze with the whetstone and knife in his hands, eyes widening in surprise.

Dorean managed to take one step towards him before his eye-lids slammed shut and he collapsed face-first into the grass.

..

* * *

He was standing before the front entrance of Candlekeep. The walls were unmanned and the gates closed and barred. There was no sign of movement or life that Dorean could see or hear, not even a bird or insect.

He stayed where he was, vaguely noticing that his weapons, armour and belongings were all gone, looking up at the castle beyond the barricades. Except for a slight breeze, there was nothing else, not even stars in the night sky.

He then heard a fluttering of clothing and turned to his right.

Gorion stood beside him, dressed in worn, tattered robes of dull gray. His gaze was turned upward toward Candlekeep, as Dorean's had been.

Dorean froze, staring up at the man. There was no mistaking him, yet he now appeared to be shrouded in shadow. The dwarf quietly blinked as the edges of Gorion's body seemed to shift in and out of focus.

"Am I dead?"he asked, his voice soft and low.

Gorion turned slowly to face him and smiled. It was the same warm, gentle smile he always wore, only now distorted by his shadowy form. Dorean felt an ache grow in his chest.

"No, child. You are not," said the wizard gently.

The dwarf closed his eyes, breathed in and out, then opened them.

"And Imoen? Is she okay?"

Gorion's smile widened slightly, the corners of his lips curling further upwards. "She is. What you were given was made to induce sleep, not death."

Dorean lowered his head and nodded, letting out a bitter and drawn-out sigh. "Wait until we're close to the inn and _then_ rob us."

After a moment, he looked back to Gorion. "So this is only a dream. None of it is real." He turned back to Candlekeep, and both men stood quietly, looking at the desolate fortress.

Gorion placed a hand on Dorean's shoulder. It felt cold, even more so than Xzar's.

"Come, child."

Dorean hesitated and then slowly turned around, a feeling of dread crawling over him as he prepared to face the causeway once again.

Instead, he found himself at the edge of the clearing in Lion's Way. Gorion turned to him and beckoned for him to follow. The dwarf stood very still, looking up at the weak and shadowy visage of the wizard's face, before following him. The old man waited for Dorean to move up and then walked beside him, matching his slow pace.

As they approached the centre of the clearing, figures appeared out of the darkness, weaving themselves into shape.

Another Gorion, this one dressed in his familiar blue robes, stood with his back to them, facing the ambushers. Next to him another Dorean with crossbow in hand.

The ache in Dorean's chest was replaced by bleak emptiness. He looked up at the gray-robed Gorion beside him. The man met his gaze, and kneeled down while facing their counterparts, placing a hand on Dorean's shoulder.

Together they watched the scene play out. Ignoring the ogres exploding, Dorean watched his earlier-self attempt to take a shot before being brought to the ground by the fire arrow, and then obeying Gorion's order to flee. His eyes followed the dwarf racing for the trees, and narrowed into a contemptuous glare.

"I was _useless_ ," he growled, grinding his teeth. " _Worse_ than useless." His face scrunched up as he tightly shut his eyes.

 _I cannot blame those two if they decided to rob and abandon us. I would have done the same._

The gray-robed Gorion squeezed his shoulder gently, and Dorean opened his eyes.

"Do not blame yourself, child," the wizard said gently. He turned his gaze back to the battle.

The blue-robed Gorion's fireball exploded just as the female cleric finished her hasty protection spell, enveloping the archers in flame. Dorean's expression darkened as he watched them drop their bows and flail in agony. His lips peeled back, exposing his barred teeth.

 _Yes._ _ **Burn**_ _, you little shits._

The armoured knight entered Dorean's vision, and the dwarf let out a deep breath before focusing on him.

The blue-robed Gorion's hands moved with astonishing speed, weaving and launching spell after spell. Most of them struck and dissipated against an invisible field around the knight, which rapidly collapsed while he was still fifteen paces from the wizard. Yet he marched on, buffeted by the seemingly non-stop barrage of spells, crossing the distance in mere seconds.

As the blue-robed Gorion leaped backwards and drew his dagger, Dorean looked away. He did not need to see what came next; it had played more than a dozen times over in his mind that day, ever since he had left the clearing with Imoen, Xzar and Montaron.

He heard the slice of the great-sword and the spray of blood and gore, then the thud of Gorion's body hitting the ground. The dwarf then slowly turned his gaze back to the scene.

He lowered his head, gray eyes narrowed and teeth barred, studying every feature of the knight as he stood over Gorion's corpse, armour and sword covered in blood, finally stopping on the man's glowing-gold eyes.

The scene turned hazy, and the shapes unwoven, returning into shadow. Dorean and the gray-robed Gorion stood alone in the clearing once more.

A long moment passed in total silence, with not even a rustle from the trees. Then Gorion slowly turned to Dorean, still kneeling and with his hand on the dwarf's shoulder.

"Do not blame yourself," he repeated, his voice even softer and gentler than before. Tears filled Dorean's eyes as he gazed into his foster father's.

"Nor should you despair or grieve." He kneeled down so that his faces was level with Dorean's. "You must focus now on protecting yourself and Imoen. That man will _never_ stop hunting you, not until you are dead or in his hands. You cannot allow it to happen."

Dorean blinked slowly, causing tears to flow down his face. He closed his eyes, breathed in and out deeply, then opened them, his expression resolved. "What must I do?"

"For now, continue your course to the Friendly Arm. Meet with my friends. Tell them of what happened to me, and that the same fate almost befell you. Ask for their aid and protection."

The memory of Obe's training session came to Dorean's mind. "And what if they refuse?" he asked dejectedly.

"I doubt they would. But _always_ remember this, child; seek help wherever you can find it," Gorion paused. "You will need all the aid you can against the one looking to take your life."

Dorean paused, looking at the old man's face. "I will," he said softly.

Gorion then drew Dorean into a hug. The dwarf clung to him, burying his face in the man's shoulder as tears flowed from his closed eyes.

The old wizard released the hug, and Dorean held on to him for a moment longer before letting go. Gorion took the dwarf's face in both hands.

"I cannot go with you now. So it is up to you."

Dorean nodded, and Gorion gently used one of his thumbs to wipe away one of the dwarf's tears.

"Remember all that you have seen here, and what I have told you, child. Remember; protect yourself, and protect Imoen. Above all else."

Dorean nodded again, more fiercely this time. "I will, father. I promise."

..

* * *

Dorean eyes snapped opened and he gasped in pain as a boot kicked him in the side, rolling him onto his back.

The faces of two men came into view, one 'in front' and one 'behind', both sneering down at him.

"Had a bit too much to drink, didja?" said one. "Explains why ye had ye face in the dirt. Dwarves, always drinkin' 'emselves stupid." He laughed, and Dorean heard the voices of several other men follow suit with varying degrees, a few too loud to be convincing and one in particular nothing more than a nervous giggle.

 _He must be their leader._ He quickly made note of the different voices. _Five. No, six._

"Got ourselves a good haul with this 'un," said the other man standing over Dorean. "Dwarves always carry lotta coin wit' them."

 _Bandits._

Keeping his arms up and to his sides, Dorean slowly sat up, breathing swiftly through his noses as his eyes moved quickly from left to right.

 _One in front, one behind, two to the left-_

He heard a cry and immediately jerked his head around to his right.

Imoen was sitting up, her face scrunched in pain at her arms being wrenched behind her back by a young and nervous-looking bandit. Another bandit, the tallest and biggest of them all, stood in front of the girl, leering down at her.

Panic rising in his gut, Dorean's eyes swept the campsite again. There was no sign of Xzar or Montaron.

The tall bandit's leer widened as he placed a hand on Imoen's chest just below her neck. "Ye're a cute one."

Imoen's foot shot up, and the bandit let out a strangled cry as he lurched backwards clutching his groin. She struggled fiercely against her captor who fought frantically to keep her arms locked in place.

The tall bandit stood up with a growl and backhanded Imoen with enough force to nearly tear her from the young bandit's grip.

Red filled Dorean's vision, and his body moved of its own accord. He had closed half the distance between him and Imoen's assailant with his belt knife already in his hand before a wooden club connected with his head and sent him to the ground.

Feeling blood running down his temple and over his face, the dwarf immediately tried to get back up only to be forced down by a boot on his back. He heard Imoen cry out his name and snarled fiercely, sending a puff of dirt away from his mouth.

"Haw!" laughed the leader, walking up to Dorean. "These two've got some spirit to 'em! Hey, ye okay there, Cliff?"

The big bandit glowered at Imoen, whose gaze was still on her wounded roommate. "I will once I've taught her a lesson in manners."

"Now, now, Cliff, ye know the rules, I get to go first." He grinned down at Dorean. "My, my, you sure got worked up, din't ye?" He looked up at the others. "Think he fancies her?"

Their laughter rang through the campsite, and Dorean gritted his teeth so hard that he tasted blood.

"F-F-Flannery?"

The bandit leader turned to the nervous young man holding Imoen. "Yeah?"

"Y-you said no one would be hurt. You, you _promised._ You swore to all'a us that no one'll be hurt!"

Silence fell around the campfire as Flannery quietly appraised the youth before smiling jovially. "Course I did, son."

His body quavering with rage and panic, Dorean watched as the man swaggered up to Imoen and leaned in close to her.

"Ye hear that, little miss? We don't wants to hurt no one. Least of all that dwarf'a yers o'er there. So's how abouts you be a good girl an' not put up a fuss?"

Imoen stared up at the man's face, her own now bruised and bleeding from where the big bandit Cliff had struck her, then turned her gaze to where Dorean lay pinned to the ground. Her eyes filled with tears as she looked at him, and Dorean's face fell as he stared back. She then closed her eyes and lowered her head in a single nod.

Flannery smiled widely, his eyes narrowing into slits. "That's a good little miss." He pinched her face, then walked back to and leaned over Dorean.

"The same goes fer you, short-legs. Just sit still, don't try anythin', and we'll let ye go." His smile widened, exposing yellowed teeth. "After we've had our fun, o' course."

Snarling inarticulately, Dorean turned his face into the dirt.

After a moment, as the snickers and laughs of the bandits filled the air around him, the dwarf slowly lifted his head up from the ground to stare at Flannery, his face now absent of all emotion.

The bandit leader's laughter faltered slightly as he looked into Dorean's eyes.

In the centre of two gray irises, black pupils turned bright, shining gold.

Flannery's laugh died along with his smile. He took a step backwards, opened his mouth wide, and screamed.

The bandits all turned to him in shock. Flannery's flesh rapidly began to shrink like an emptying water-skin. The man's eyes remained fixed on Dorean's, his screams growing louder and louder.

The club-wielding bandit standing on Dorean, transfixed with fear and staring at his leader, took his foot off of the dwarf's back.

With a flick of his wrist, Dorean's sleeve-dagger flew into his right hand. As he scrambled to his feet, he drove the blade deep into the bandit's leg and pulled it out with a violent wrench.

Ignoring the screams of his victim behind him, he headed straight for Imoen. Cliff whirled towards him with widened eyes, mouth opening in a cry and reaching for his sword. The blade was halfway out of its scabbard before he pitched forward onto the ground with a throwing dagger in the back of his head.

Dorean's head snapped to the side, as did Imoen's captor who then shrieked in terror at the sight of the wild-haired, green-eyed man standing two paces in front of him. Releasing Imoen, he fell backwards and onto his knees, throwing his skinny arms up in front of him. "No! Please! I surrender! Please!"

Dorean stared at Xzar for one second, then swiftly turned to his left.

 _Two more!-_

Both remaining bandits now lay motionless on the ground. Between them stood Montaron, holding a long, thin dagger in his right hand.

Without saying a word, the halfling strode past Dorean towards the leg-stabbed bandit now lying on the ground clutching his wounded limb. The man's eyes widened upon seeing the approaching halfling. As he opened his mouth to speak, Montaron pushed aside the man's pleading hand with his foot, leaned down and stabbed him in the side of his neck. He then immediately went through the bandit's pockets, ignoring the man's dying gurgle.

Montaron then calmly wiped his blade on the dead man's shirt, put away his dagger, then turned to look at Dorean and Imoen, his expression one of mild boredom.

Dorean looked at him for a moment, blinking blood out of his right eye, then hurried over to Imoen. Her hands immediately went to his face.

"Are you alright?" she cried, her voice high-pitched and sobbing.

Dorean froze in disbelief, staring up at her as she ran her hands over his forehead and temple.

Montaron ignored them, moving over to and searching the bodies of the two bandits he had killed. Xzar stood still and stared quietly at the duo. Without taking his eyes off them, he placed a hand gently on the back of the kneeling bandit's neck. The young man's held-out arms trembled and he lowered his head, mewling feebly at the ground.

"Imoen," said Dorean. The girl ignored him, running her hands over his forehead and temple again. "Imoen, never mind me-"

The girl went very still, staring at the dwarf's temple. "It...it isn't there," she said faintly.

Dorean hesitated, then brought his left hand up diagonally to feel his right temple, his fingers brushing over Imoen's.

His head was still covered in blood, but the wound was gone.

After several seconds, he very slowly lowered his hand, staring blankly up at her. Then he stepped backwards out of her reach and slowly turned around to where Flannery had fallen.

The bandit leader lay flat on his back, his skin stretched to grotesque lengths over his emaciated body. His eyes stared vacantly upwards and unblinking, chest rising and falling very slowly in ragged, wheezing breaths.

Montaron walked over to the man, looked down at him, raised an eyebrow, then leaned over and calmly went through Flannery's pockets. The man's eyes went to the halfling, and his lips moved in an apparent attempt to speak. All that came out was a low, audible croak.

Finding a dirty coin pouch, Montaron stowed it in his robes, stepped over Flannery, then walked over to and picked up Gorion's pack and Winthrop's food-bag.

Slinging both over one shoulder, causing them to bump against his own pack, he then turned to Imoen and wordlessly held out his hand. She stared down at the halfling for a long moment, then hesitantly took it in her own.

Ignoring Dorean's blood in her hand smearing onto his, Montaron looked at her bruised, tear-stained face for a few seconds before turning to the dwarf.

"We'll be down the road. Don't keep us waitin'. An' put out the fire."

He turned away and walked past all of them with Imoen in tow. She looked over her shoulder at Dorean as Montaron pulled her along. The dwarf watched them out of sight.

Once again, there was silence in the campsite, save for the crackling of the fire and the quiet whimpers of the one remaining bandit. Dorean breathed deeply and rubbed his temple again. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Xzar looking at him, his eyes once more glinting in the reflected firelight, his expression unreadable.

The dwarf slowly walked over to Flannery. The bandit leader's unblinking, near-vacant eyes widened very slightly. His mouth moved, and again there was naught but a long, drawn-out croak.

Dorean looked down at the man, his expression blank, the thin blade of the sleeve-knife in his right hand slowly dripping blood.

He gently flicked the blood from his weapon and returned it to its place at his wrist, slowly inserting it into his sleeve. The dwarf then removed his gloves, pulling each finger out one-by-one, all the while keeping his eyes on Flannery's. Placing his gloves in his pocket, he then sat down on top of the man, straddling his chest which stopped moving as the bandit leader held his breath.

Dorean then leaned down and placed both hands around Flannery's neck.

The young bandit's whimpers became choked sobs, and large teardrops began running down his face. Xzar's expression, like Dorean's, did not alter in the slightest, and he kept his idle, almost gentle grip on the back of the youth's neck.

Dorean's eyes fixed on his victim, his face devoid of emotion as he slowly increased the pressure on the man's neck.

After about thirty seconds, the light went out of the man's eyes. Dorean held on for several more seconds before releasing him and standing up.

He then wordlessly kicked dirt onto the fire, throwing the campsite into darkness, then slowly walked away in the direction that Montaron and Imoen went.

He glanced at Xzar's captive as he walked past, noting offhandedly that he could not be older than eighteen.

"All yours."

Both men's eyes followed the dwarf out of sight. Then, alone with the wizard and surrounded by the bodies of his fellow bandits, the young man lowered his head, sobbing quietly. His breathing becoming more rapid and his thin chest heaving up and down, he raised his head and looked up.

With his head lowered and shielded from the moonlight, Xzar looked down at the young bandit, his face half-concealed in shadow, and smiled slowly, lips peeling back and exposing two rows of white teeth.


	9. Chapter 9

Montaron glanced at the girl standing next to him and shivering in the night breeze. Imoen's sleeves had been ripped in several places from where the bandits had seized her, further exposing the cuts on her arms. She rubbed her upper arms, seeming not to notice that she was smearing them with Dorean's blood.

The halfling looked at her for another moment, then reached into his pack, briefly adjusting his one-handed grip on the straps of Gorion's pack and the food-bag, and removed a small, rectangular object wrapped in brown paper. He tapped it against Imoen's side, causing her to turn to him, and held it up to her.

"Chocolate. Warm ye up."

Imoen blinked, then slowly uncrossed her arms, took the snack and unwrapped it. She again met Montaron's gaze, then took a small bite and chewed.

"Make sure ye finish it," said the halfling, turning away. "Can't have ye catchin' ye death of cold."

She stared down at him for a moment before taking another bite. "Thank you," she mumbled quietly. He grunted.

Dorean appeared on the road within the next minute. He frowned at the sight of Imoen eating the chocolate, but said nothing, moving to stand next to her. She inched closer to him, her hip touching his shoulder, and he quietly reached up and patted her elbow in response.

The trio waited in silence for their remaining companion. Imoen finished the chocolate, folded the wrapping paper and stowed it in her pocket. Another minute passed before she turned to Montaron on her right.

"Should we go back for him?"

"No. We wait."

His eyes narrowing, Dorean noted that the halfling's voice sounded more forceful than usual. The image of Xzar skinning the rabbit came to his mind.

"Okay," replied Imoen, her voice meek.

Montaron sighed, then reached into his pack again and handed Imoen another slab of chocolate. She blinked several times before accepting it with both hands.

"Thank you, Montaron."

He grunted again, louder this time, and ignored Dorean staring at him.

Nearly five more minutes went by before Dorean spotted Xzar approaching with Imoen's shortbow in his hand and her arrow quiver slung over his shoulder. Dorean noticed that Xzar's other hand was carrying a jar filled with clear liquid along with something else. As he squinted to get a better look, Xzar noticed him, hurriedly stowed the item in his pack, and gave him a very unconvincing expression of innocent naivety.

Imoen, lacking low-light vision, did not notice Xzar until he got closer. She perked up as the wizard stopped in front of her and held out the bow and quiver. The girl hesitated before taking them.

"Do you require medical attention?" the wizard asked softly, his expression strangely dreamy and his gaze passing over the cuts and bruise on her face. His eyes narrowed upon seeing chocolate on her lips.

"No...no, thank you," Imoen answered.

She then turned to her right and blinked upon seeing that Montaron was no longer there. She and Dorean turned around to see the halfling waiting for them several paces down the road, still carrying Gorion's pack and the food-bag.

"Get movin'. No more stops."

For a moment, Imoen watched Montaron turn around and began following the road, then glanced down at Dorean, patted his shoulder, and followed suit. The dwarf took a couple of steps forward, then paused and glanced behind him.

Xzar's gaze was locked onto Montaron's back, his eyes narrowed into slits and his lips curled downwards in a malevolent grimace.

Dorean turned away, feeling a shiver down his back, and quickened his pace to move up next to Imoen.

Less than a minute later, Imoen stumbled over a rock on the path and barely regained her footing.

 _She cannot see in the dark like I can._

"Take my hand," he said gently, holding it up to her. She looked at him for a moment before doing so, interlacing her fingers in his.

Several minutes went by in silence with Imoen repeatedly glancing at Dorean and biting her lip until he could not take any more of it. The dwarf lifted his eyes to meet hers.

"I don't know what happened. At least...not for sure."

Imoen hesitated. "For sure?"

Dorean drew the Harper pin from his pocket, holding it in an open palm to catch the moonlight so that Imoen could see it.

"I think it was him."

A moment passed in silence.

"Gorion?"

"Yeah."

"He did that?"

"No. I mean...it was him, but it wasn't. Somehow." He looked upat her helplessly. "I can't explain it."

After what felt like a very long moment, Imoen simply nodded, released his hand and placed hers on his head.

"Okay." She gave a brief, gentle ruffle of his hair, before returning her hand to his.

As Dorean started to sigh in relief, she spoke again.

"Soo...why were you lying face-down?"

The dwarf tensed, and quickly looked away.

"Your bandage was gone, and so was the arrow-wound. Which means you took a healing potion. Which neither one of us had."

Dorean dared not look at her, keeping his gaze pointed in front of him.

"It looked to me like you were already unconscious before those bandits showed up."

Ten paces ahead, Montaron's head imperceptibly turned to the side.

Imoen frowned as she received no answer. He winced as she tightened her grip on their interlocked fingers.

"...Xzar gave me a healing potion for my wound," he paused. "That had a sleeping draught in it."

Imoen stopped walking, staring down at him. Dorean closed his eyes. Ahead of them, Montaron stopped as well, watching the two thieves from over his right shoulder.

Then Dorean was nearly spun in a circle as Imoen abruptly turned around. He quickly regained his balance and hastened to stay beside her as she almost dragged him in her march toward Xzar, who stopped and cocked his head in an expression of polite curiosity.

"Xzar," said Imoen, stopping barely a pace away from the wizard. "Did you lace the healing potion you gave my brother with a sleeping draught?"

"Indeed I did," he answered cheerily. Dorean looked worriedly at his roommate. He saw to his dismay that her frown had turned into a scowl.

"And why did you do it?"

Xzar's innocent and friendly smile faltered under Imoen's glare.

"Urm...so we could go through your things?" He said, his voice growing smaller with each syllable.

"Hadda assure ourselves ye are who ye say ye are," said Montaron. To their credit, Dorean and Imoen did not jump this time as they turned around to see that he was now standing a few paces behind them. "Got a problem with that?" he asked, his voice low and threatening.

Imoen's glare disappeared, replaced by an uncanny lack of emotion as her jade-green eyes met Montaron's coal-black.

As the silence stretched out between them, it occurred to Dorean that Xzar and Montaron have him and Imoen trapped between them and are both standing too close for Dorean's crossbow and Imoen's shortbow. _Not that it would make any difference._ He released Imoen's hand, bringing his own arm in front of her.

"No, we don't have a problem with-"

"Thank you."

Dorean, Montaron and Xzar blinked.

"What?" said Xzar.

"Come again?" said Montaron. He jumped slightly when Imoen spun around, his hand halfway to the folds of his shirt before he managed to stop himself.

"It was all part of the plan, wasn't it?" said Imoen, raising her index finger in a knowing gesture. "You wanted them to get closer. If he'd been awake and alert, they might have shot at him first."

Montaron blinked quickly twice before he raised his own finger. "No, that's not it. We just wanted to look through yer stuff, we didn't know there were-" He paused. "Wait, what d'ye mean 'shot', they didn't even have-"

"And you saved us," Imoen interrupted, lowering her hand and beaming down at the halfling. "Both of us." She turned to Dorean, placing her arm around his shoulders. "Didn't he?"

Dorean blinked as she winked at him, then his eyebrows rose as he caught on. Winking back, he and Imoen turned to face Montaron, both wearing wide smiles.

"Yes," said Dorean. "You did save us." He gave a quick bow. "I am sorry, I should have thanked you earlier."

Montaron's expression darkened. "Ye mockin' me?"

"Not at all, no sir!" declared Imoen. "Totally sincere and true in our grat'in-tutilations, that's us!"

"That's not even a word," said Dorean.

"Yes it is!"

"...noo, I am fairly certain it isn't."

"It is so! I invented it, so there!"

Montaron's jaw slackened as he blinked slowly at them."Ye're a pair of idiots." Imoen straightened and turned back to him.

"Oh! Where were we? Yes, giving our thanks to Mister Montaron here for risking his _cute_ little hide to save us tall-folk from a terrible horrible fate!"

"Did ye just call me cu-?!"

"And for not robbing us in our sleep," said Dorean. He bravely ignored the halfling's fierce glare, turning nonchalantly to Imoen. "And I'm not a 'tall-folk'."

"Stop interrupting-" snarled Montaron.

"And for giving me chocolate," Imoen went on, ignoring Dorean's correction. "You really are a good ol' soul beneath that grimmy-face, aren't ya?" She beamed down at Montaron, who was looking increasingly flabbergasted by the second.

Dorean lowered his head slightly. "And for helping us bury my father." Imoen glanced at him and hesitated, though only for a second.

"Yes, indeed he did," she agreed. "Together now!"

She and Dorean straightened themselves and then bent forward in formal bows to the bewildered halfling."Thank you so very much, Mister Montaron, sir," they said together.

He snarled and turned away with a mutter of "Gonna kill ye both fer this..."

"Hey!"

Dorean and Imoen blinked and turned around to a very put-out Xzar.

"I helped too!"

"Yes you did, Xzar," answered Imoen.

The wizard beamed brightly and placed his hands behind his back, awaiting his own formal bows and thank yous.

"Although," said Imoen, bringing a finger to her chin in thought. "You did drug my little brother, left him face-down in the mud, and then stood by and watch us get beaten up."

Xzar made a noise of indignant shock. "It was his idea!" he cried, pointing at Montaron.

"THAT'S IT!" yelled the halfling, his voice alarmingly loud for such a small figure. "In case any o' ye haven't noticed yet, it's the middle o' the friggin' night an' there's wolves and gibberlings out here, not ta mention the bandit attack we JUST walked away from! So shut ye traps an' get MOVIN'!" He took a breath. "An' that goes fer yez too," he added with a pointed finger at Xzar, who answered him with a sneer.

There was silence for a moment.

"Montaron?" said Imoen, her voice sounding like a hopeful five-year-old.

"What?" he barked.

"Could I have some more of that chocolate?" She hunched her shoulders and drew her arms around herself. "I'm feeling cold again."

There was a couple of loud thuds as Gorion's pack and Winthrop's food-bag struck the ground, then Montaron whirled around and stalked up the road. With barely-stifled laughter, Dorean and Imoen picked them up.

"Not a good idea to tick him off," said Dorean.

"Then why didn't you try and stop me?" Imoen snickered at the spot where Montaron had disappeared from her vision. "I knew he had more than just 'grim' and 'unfriendly' in him."

"Yes," said Dorean. "You really can get under anyone's skin." She reached over in retaliation and ruffled his hair again, more roughly than before. He half-heartedly swatted at her hand, his smile hidden behind his beard.

 _She seems to be feeling better now._

"Oi!" yelled an angry voice from up ahead. "Get a move on 'fore I come back over there and gut the pair'a ye!"

"I think he likes you."

Dorean and Imoen blinked, looked at each other, and then at Xzar. "He does?" said Dorean. Xzar nodded.

"Yes. He only threatens to kill people he likes."

The dwarf and pink girl blinked again, looked at each other and exchanged smiles.

As they turned back to the road, Dorean glanced down at the Harper pin still in his hand, the crescent moon and harp symbol barely reflected in the moonlight.

Closing his fingers over it, he shut his eyes and whispered "Thank you, father," before returning it to his pocket and taking Imoen's hand to resume guiding her through the dark.

Xzar followed at a regular, confident pace, seemingly unhindered by the lack of light. He quietly hummed a tune in time to his footsteps, the corner of his lip curled upward in a small, imperceptible smile.

..

* * *

Arranged at the top of the towers along the walls, the large size of their braziers allowed the fires to illuminate most of the Friendly Arm Inn.

"Wow," said Imoen, her voice filled with wonder. "That's an inn?"

"More like a stronghold," said Dorean, his eyes roving over the patrolling guards.

"It used to be," said Xzar softly. He breathed in and out slowly and deeply, then walked off the road, sat down against a tree, and rested his forearms on his knees. He stared off at nothing for a moment before lowering his head.

Dorean and Imoen stared. Montaron paused to look at Xzar, his expression blank and unreadable, before walking over to them.

"Right." Dorean and Imoen turned to him. "I'm goin' in first. Wait 'til I'm gone. Meet wit' these folks ye meetin' with, then be in the common room at dawn. Don't be late." With that, he turned and headed for the inn.

"What if we get into trouble?" said Dorean.

"And what about Xzar, aren't you going with him?" said Imoen.

Montaron gave them no answer, neither looking back nor slowing down.

"The owners have a no-violence policy that is strictly enforced," said Xzar without lifting his head. "It should be safe enough."

Imoen cocked her head. "Have you ever been to the Friendly Arm, Xzar?"

A moment passed, long enough that the duo began to wonder if he had fallen asleep. "Yes. I have."

Dorean and Imoen looked at each other and then back to Xzar. "Alright," said Dorean, glancing behind him to see that Montaron was nowhere in sight. "I suppose we should get to the inn now."

"You go on," said Xzar, still not moving from his spot. "I'll sit here for a bit." After a moment, he blinked, looked up and saw that the dwarf and girl had not moved and were still staring at him. Frowning, he raised his hands and made shooing gestures at them.

"Urm. Okay," said Imoen. She exchanged glances with Dorean and shrugged. "I guess we'll be seeing you in the morning. Common room, then?"

Dropping one hand, Xzar waved to them with the other. They returned the wave, Dorean more hesitantly, and then made for the inn.

The wizard watched them go, his gaze lingering for a moment on the spot where they disappeared from sight beyond the open gate, then slowly rested his head against the tree. He blinked slowly several times, green eyes moving over the walls and the keep, then lowered his head again.

Xzar then bit the back of his left hand, chewing slowly and steadily. Trickles of blood flowed from between his lips and stained his green robes. He paid it no heed.

When his teeth reached bone, Xzar hesitated, then clamped his jaws and jerked his head back.

Blood spurted from his hand as the flesh was torn from the wound. The wizard watched it idly for several seconds, his face, hair and robes being sprayed with blood, then raised his chin.

The mouthful of torn flesh travelled down his throat in a single slow gulp.

..

* * *

"Will he be alright?"

Dorean followed Imoen's gaze beyond the gate. "I don't think we need to worry about him." He held up the paper slip in his hand. "I'm more worried about our weapons."

"Xzar said there's a no-violence policy here." Imoen held up her own slip, squinting at its number. "They never said how much the fine would be for losing these."

"That's so they could charge whatever price they want," said Dorean. "At least they didn't take all of my knives," he added, lowering his voice.

"How many did you bring with you anyway?" asked Imoen, looking at his pack.

"Five."

She blinked. "So you've still got three?"

"Yeah. Why, do you want one?"

"Heck no!" answered Imoen, hurriedly glancing at a nearby guard patrol. "What if they search you?"

"They didn't at the gate, so I doubt they will later. Guess they didn't see me as potential trouble." He paused, looking up at her. "I don't want to be unarmed anywhere now. Not after what happened." He lowered his head for a moment before looking back to her. "What about you? What did you bring?"

"Just my bow. I...I didn't have time to take anything else," replied Imoen, her voice becoming softer and lower with each word. "But I'll go through Mister G's things later."

She looked away from Dorean. The dwarf paused, then decided to let the matter rest.

 _She'll tell me when she's ready._

..

* * *

Leaning against the wall of a house, his short sword now gone from his back, Montaron folded his arms across his chest. His eyes followed Dorean and Imoen as the duo made their way to the entrance of the Friendly Arm Inn, ignoring the series of coos from the pigeons to his left.

"Ye done yet?" he asked, not looking away from the dwarf and girl.

"Just about," came the answer. There was a fluttering of wings, and then a tall, plump, blonde-haired woman came to stand next to him, her eyes following the departing bird.

"There it goes. Should get to Baldur's Gate in a day and a half, at most."

"Ye sure?"

"'Course I'm sure," she replied, looking down at him. "I know my birds. Just ask anyone lives here. 'There ain't anyone who knows their carrier pigeons around these parts like Joia does', they'll say."

"Mm," said Montaron. Joia cocked her head at him.

"Not the talkative type, I see," she said, casually picking pigeon feathers out of her hair. "So, do you need any more messages flown out?"

"I do," answered the halfling, removing a scroll from inside his shirt and handing it to her without taking his eyes off of Dorean and Imoen. Joia took it and weighed it in her hand, either not noticing or caring about his focus on the two thieves. "Where do you want this sent?"

"Candlekeep."

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Well. Candlekeep it is, then. That'll be eight gold."

Montaron finally looked at her, raising one of his own eyebrows. "Bit steep," he said, handing her the money.

"Not my fault," replied Joia casually. "Not many people want to travel now with all the robbers and hobgoblins on the roads. Prices have gone up everywhere." She turned and walked the few paces back to her pigeon coop, selected a bird and unlocked its cage. "Pardon me saying, but you don't seem like the Candlekeep sort. Mostly it's wizards, nobles and such."

Feeling a sudden shiver down her back, she paused in her work to look over her shoulder. Montaron stared blankly at her, his black eyes reflecting the flickering light of the torch hanging on the wall above him.

"Didn't mean it as an insult," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. When he did not answer her, she quickly returned to securing the scroll around the pigeon's leg, then sent the bird into the air. She watched it fly off into the night sky for a moment, then took a deep breath.

"Actually, you might be the sort I need. See, it's about a ring of mine that-"

She turned around to find that Montaron had vanished.

..

* * *

The instant Dorean and Imoen stepped through the large double doors of the keep, the cold night air dissipated, replaced by a feeling of enveloping warmth. A dozen smells hit Dorean all at once, and to his irritation his stomach began to rumble.

"I've never seen so many in one place," said Imoen. "There must be over a hundred people in here," she added, raising her voice to be heard above the hubbub and gazing wondrously at the banners, shields, weapons and other decorations on the walls. The pink girl then frowned and stood on the tips of her boots. "Why's the counter all the way on the other side?"

"I think I know," answered Dorean, his expression darkening. "Watch out for pickpockets." Resisting the urge to take her hand, he led the way across the room past patrons and barmaids, his gray eyes swiftly moving onto and then away from each and every one, lingering briefly on a table occupied by what appeared to be an entire family of halflings.

"Tables are a bit low, aren't they?" said Imoen as she and Dorean passed by one occupied by a group of tall, thin peasants, all of whom had to lean over to reach their plates and drinks. Her curiosity was sated upon reaching the (also low) counter and the curly-haired gnome behind it, who gave them a smile radiating the same warmth as the inn.

"Welcome to the Friendly Arm, young ones. Bentley Mirrorshade, at ya service."

Imoen stared down at him for a moment, then clasped her hands, placed them under her chin, and squealed. "You're so adorable!"

As heads turned their way, Dorean audibly groaned and lowered his head, resisting the urge to raise his hood.

Bentley coughed once, then laughed. It was a strange sound, more like a song than an expression of mirth. "Well thank you, miss! Most kind of ya to say so!"

Imoen began squealing and hopping from one foot to the next. She looked on the verge of leaping over the counter. Dorean gave the woman waiting behind them an apologetic look, then elbowed Imoen sharply in the side and stepped in front of her. "Please pardon my companion's impertinence, sir. She is young, and foolish, and has a peanut for a brain."

Bentley threw his head back and laughed, attracting even more stares. Imoen stopped hopping about and scowled down at the top of the dwarf's head. "Ya kids just reminded me of a couple of lads I knew." He smiled vacantly at them both, clearly lost in memory. Dorean gave him five seconds before clearing his throat. Bentley then turned to him, his smile changing from warm to apologetic. "I am sorry, but if you are looking for a room, we are all full."

 _Damn it._ "Is there no way to get one?" the dwarf asked politely, resisting the urge to grind his teeth. "We are prepared to pay more." Bentley shrugged his wide shoulders and spread his hands.

"I am very sorry, kid, but there simply aren't any rooms left."

"What about the temple? Would they allow us a room?"

Bentley made a sheepish, hissing noise, shrugging apologetically again. "Normally, we would, but we can't now. See, my wife runs the place, and it's been very busy over there. They only take worshippers or those in need of healing. I'm very sorry, kids."

Dorean swore under his breath, silently thanking his beard, then turned to Imoen.

 _Stables_ , they thought-spoke together. Imoen sighed dejectedly at the prospect of leaving the warm, comforting atmosphere of the inn back into the cold night air. Dorean then lowered his head to hide his face from her.

 _Too easy to rob and murder someone sleeping in a stable_ , he thought. _I know that too well._

He raised his eyes to Bentley, ignoring the impatiently fidgeting woman behind him and Imoen, and decided to try to provoke sympathy from the obviously kindly gnome. "Very well, sir. We will spend the night in the stables then-"

"That won't be necessary," said a voice to Dorean and Imoen's right. They both turned to see a young, handsome man dressed in robes of black and green. "You can have my room."

"Are you sure, Tarnesh?" said Bentley. He traced a small finger over the open page of a large book on the counter. "You already paid for the next four days."

"Oh, something has come up, and I need to leave tonight," said Tarnesh. "And I'll take back for three of those days. The fee for the last day can go to these two here."

Dorean and Imoen blinked, then smiled at him, though Dorean's was a half-second slower. "Hey, thanks a lot!" said Imoen. "You just saved us a night in a hay bale."

Tarnesh smirked at her and nodded politely. "You could both thank me by joining me for my evening drink. What do you say?" He turned his smirk onto Dorean. Three seconds later, the dwarf deliberately widened his smile so that his beard would visibly move to show it.

"Of course we will," he paused. "Once we've been introduced to our most generous benefactor."

"Such manners," said Tarnesh, grinning at Bentley who smiled back. He then gave a small bow. "Tarnesh of Baldur's Gate, former apprentice wizard and fledging adventurer. And you?"

"Well, I'm Imoen," said Imoen. "And this is Do-"

In the nanosecond that she started to say his name, images appeared in Dorean's mind.

 _Shank Gwist, mewling in a puddle of blood on the floor of the storehouse. 'It was fer a bounty...some foreign woman, I don't know who!...two hun'ned gold..."_

 _A woman of foreign appearance and accent, standing in the clearing of the Lion's Way._

 _In front of her, the tall, broad knight in horned armour, great-sword in hand and hatred blazing in his golden eyes._

"Dorn," said Dorean. Imoen and Tarnesh stared at him.

"Well, Imoen and Dorn, it is, then," said Bentley, causing the duo to turn to him. The gnome was now writing in the book with a large feather-quill. "I'll just write 'Dorn the dwarf', if you don't mind," he added, winking at Dorean. "You're the second Dorn who's staying here. Funny thing, he's just as polite as you are." Putting down the quill, he then counted several coins from his pouch before handing them to Tarnesh. "And here's ya refund, kid. Good luck out there."

"Thank you, but I don't need luck when I have my magic."

Bentley gave another oddly melodious laugh. "Just don't be firing any spells in here, okay? The only wizard in the Friendly Arm is me."

Tarnesh smiled and nodded politely to Bentley. Dorean did not fail to notice that the smile was strained.

Bentley raised his round, bearded chin. "Nessie!"

A tall, thin woman with short blonde hair hurried over and introduced herself as the steward of the Friendly Arm. "If you'll follow me," she said, turning to lead them back to the rows of tables.

As he turned to follow, Dorean's vision moved over the corner of the hall to the left of the counter. In it were two people, one seated on a sofa and the other pacing back and forth next to the table in front of their seats.

Both were armoured and openly carrying weapons.

He paused for a few seconds, then quickly walked away as the woman's face began to turn towards him.

..

* * *

"Mrs Mirrorshade?"

"Please, girl, call me Gellana."

"Y-yes, Mrs Mirrorshade, I-I mean G-Gellana."

Gellana Mirrorshade smiled patiently at the young gnome in front of her. "What is it, child?"

"Well, it's this patient I treated just then. Had an animal bite on him. 'orrible, it was, blood everywhere. I-I healed it and wrapped it up like you taught me, but..." she trailed off.

"But?" said Gellana calmly. "Go on, girl."

"He's scared, Mrs Mirrorsha-Gellana. He says it might be infected. Says he thinks the creature what done it might have been diseased. I...I tried to tell him he will be alright and just needs to rest, but..."

"It's fine, child," said Gellana, placing her hand on the girl's shoulder. "Just tell me where this patient is."

Moments later, Gellana was standing in front of a man in blood-spattered green robes, inspecting his torn hand while he trembled from his seated position on the floor.

"Well, mister, you're in luck. No signs or symptoms of infection."

"A-are ye sure, ma'am?" he asked, blue eyes blinking rapidly.

"As sure as Glittergold, sir," she replied jokingly, giving him a reassuring smile, which he nervously returned. "Just go easy on it for the next few days, and you'll make a full recovery."

He nodded, then winced and adjusted his hindquarters.

"I'm sorry we couldn't get a bed for you, but they've all been reserved for patients in serious condition," said Gellana, bowing her head apologetically.

"It's...it's fine, madam Mirrorshade. Wouldn't be right fer me ta be lyin' down when other folks're hurt worse. And, and thank ye kindly fer seein' to me." He nodded very fast several times, his head bobbing back and forth. "Ye're one'a the good ones."

"You are welcome, and thank you," she replied, smiling at him. He smiled back, then looked at the circlet of gems around her forehead.

"That's a real shiny beauty ye've got there, ma'am, if ye don't mind me sayin'."

She chuckled and stroked the gems. "You like them? They are a symbol of Garl Glittergold, the god of this temple."

"Ah, I've heard of him. Supposed to have created all gnomes, din't he?"

"Yes, he did. Well, I must see to my other patients. Take care now." The gnome gave his arm a pat and released her hold on his wrist.

She had gotten five paces before the man spoke again.

"And it was his power that gave you this place."

Gellana froze, then slowly turned around.

The man's face had changed along with his accent; close-cropped straw-coloured hair was now long, wild and dark, and his blue eyes had been replaced by bright green.

"I like it better now," said Xzar, calmly moving his gaze over the gems and gold nuggets embedded in the pillars and walls. "It was **much** dirtier until you and your husband came."

Gellana Mirrorshade stood very still. Slowly, her old and kindly expression changed, becoming cold and hard. The fingers of her hands curled into fists, nails digging into her palms.

"What do you want?"

Xzar stood up very slowly, a wide, languid smile spreading across his face.

"These 'patients in serious condition' you mentioned..."

..

* * *

It took Nessie a few minutes to find them a table with three empty seats, during which Tarnesh walked side by side with Dorean while Imoen followed behind.

As they moved toward their table, Dorean was spun almost completely around when someone jostled him hard in the shoulder. The dwarf's eyes widened as he regained his feet and whirled towards his assailant. He barely stopped short and quickly sheathed the half-drawn knife in his shirt when he saw who it was.

Without so much as a glance at him, Montaron seated himself at a table a few rows away from Dorean's.

Noticing both Dorean and Imoen staring at him, Tarnesh's head darted between them before lifting his chin at the halfling. "You there. You should apologize to my friend." There was a drop in crowd noise as the people around them went quiet, watching with varying nervousness, anticipation and even eagerness for a fight.

Montaron calmly turned his head, gave Tarnesh a bored, dismissive look then silently turned away.

His nostrils flaring, Tarnesh stepped forward, and Dorean quickly moved toward him with hand raised in an open palm.

"It's fine, ignore him. He's not worth it," he added when Tarnesh looked to take another step toward Montaron. The young wizard frowned at Dorean, then nodded. "Very well." As he turned around, Dorean quickly gave Imoen a warning look, to which she nodded knowingly.

After they had taken their seats at the low table and made their orders, with Imoen ordering a thoroughly appetizing and unhealthy dinner for herself to the raised eyebrows of Nessie, Tarnesh, who had sat next to Dorean, glanced at him and then jerked his thumb at Montaron.

"You know, I still have half a mind to go over there and have some harsh words with him."

Dorean managed to keep a straight face and not frown in suspicion as he looked at the young wizard. "He didn't cause me any harm," he said dismissively, shrugging his shoulders.

"Oh, come on, Dorn," said Tarnesh, leaning backwards and looking down at him. His voice took on a condescending tone. "Where's that dwarvish pride your kind are so famous for?"

Imoen, who had just received her first of four ordered dishes and was about to dive into it, paused with her fork hovering over a mashed potato and roast turnip, glancing at both men from across the round table.

As he looked up into Tarnesh's eyes, a dawning realization came upon the dwarf.

 _He's baiting me. What for?_

"Like I said," he said slowly. "he's not worth the trouble of getting kicked out of here. Me and the girl have travelled a long way to get here, and we're now tired. We just want food, drink and a warm bed for the night." He paused. "Of which the last one you so generously provided."

Tarnesh's expression went from taunting to confused, and he tilted his head to the side as he appraised the dwarf. Imoen then decided to jump in.

"You seen any fights in here, Tarnesh?"

The young wizard looked at her, back to Dorean, then smiled as he shifted in his seat to face her. "Oh, yes, quite a few, actually. Though they've always been broken up by Bentley."

"He did mention he was a wizard," said Imoen, unconsciously placing the tips of her fork against her chin and getting potato on her face. "Is he any good?"

Tarnesh shrugged. "Oh, I really cannot say. He stopped a few drunken peasants from hitting each other. I don't think that really constitutes skill in magic."

 _That jealousy I detect there?_ thought Dorean. "I don't see any guards in here," he said. For a half-second, Tarnesh looked ready to sneer at him before turning it half-way into a smile.

"Funny you should say that. I said as much to him, and he told me that most of the Friendly Arm's guards have been posted on the walls and gates because of all the bandit attacks."

 _So you're interested in the security here,_ thought Dorean. He glanced at Imoen and saw her shoulders sag slightly at the words 'bandit attacks'.

"Is it really that bad out there?" she asked.

"If you are going south, then yes, it is bound to get bad." Tarnesh paused. "Incidentally, where are you two from, if I may ask?"

Dorean, who had anticipated such a question during his travelling to the Friendly Arm, did not hesitate in answering. "We're from Beregost. Worked in the Jovial Juggler until a week ago."

"Really?" replied Tarnesh, looking from Imoen to Dorean. "And what, if I may ask, caused the end to your employments at the Juggler?"

Dorean had anticipated this question as well. He smiled sheepishly. "I was caught with my hand in a drunk customer's bag and she," He pointed casually at Imoen. "Kept stealing bites off of her customer's plates."

"Hey!" said Imoen from behind a mouthful of potato. She choked and hurriedly reached for her tankard. Dorean and Tarnesh watched her gulp down its contents in one go before promptly turning back to one another.

"Anyway, we're now heading for Baldur's Gate. Hopefully we'll find new jobs there. What about you, Tarnesh?" asked the dwarf. "What brings you out here?"

He paused for a moment as he looked at Dorean, cocking his head to the side.

"I guess you could say...I am looking for opportunities. There may well be many for someone of my talent. I hear that enchanted weaponry is now in very high demand thanks to the iron shortage."

Dorean was uncomfortably reminded of his and Imoen's weapons now in the Friendly Arm guardhouse. He frowned as another thought came to him. "Wouldn't that demand be even higher in the city?"

Tarnesh paused before smiling again in what Dorean recognized as a cover-up. "Yes, you're right. But like I said, I'm on the lookout for many different opportunities." He paused again. "It's in interesting times like these when one could make his fame and fortune, wouldn't you agree?"

At that moment, a middle-aged barmaid arrived carrying Imoen's next two ordered dishes; a large steak and a pudding pie.

"Here ya go, darling, don't eat it all in one bite."

"Tanks," said Imoen thickly. Having already finished her potato and turnip, she immediately tucked into the steak. As Tarnesh, the barmaid and several other patrons stared, Dorean noticed from the corner of his eye Montaron raising an eyebrow at the pink girl.

"Would there be anything else, dearie?" the barmaid asked hesitantly, tilting her head to avoid a flying speckle of steak sauce. Imoen paused in mid-bite, then set down her knife and fork and turned to the woman.

"Just one thing. Are you a golem?"

The barmaid gaped at her, then huffed and placed her hands on her hips before stalking off with her nose in the air.

"It was just a question!" Imoen called. Tarnesh chuckled.

"You've read Volothamp Geddarm's guidebooks, haven't you?"

"Yep," said Imoen, still talking with her mouth full. "I love 'em."

"You shouldn't believe everything that man writes." Tarnesh smirked. "He bases most of his writing on rumours and speculation. Barmaids secretly golems? That's as feasible as this place once belonging to an undead priest, don't you think?"

As Imoen and Tarnesh began to argue, Dorean stole a glance at Montaron, who now had a tankard in front of him and was writing in a parchment scroll with a raven quill pen. He paid neither Dorean nor Imoen any attention.

 _At least not to anyone who's looking._

As he watched the small man write slowly and deliberately, seemingly taking his time to select the words, a strange feeling of ease came over the dwarf.

 _I don't know why, but I feel safer with him around._ He blinked, remembering Montaron drugging and threatening him only hours ago. _Against all reason and logic, it seems._

..

* * *

Stopping outside a door, Gellana Mirrorshade breathed deeply, maintaining her cold expression, then opened it and stepped through. Xzar followed slowly behind her.

The room beyond was almost bare in contrast to the design and decorations in the rest of the temple. Aside from a wooden stool and mattress, there was nothing else in it save its only occupant lying on the latter; a tall, lean, clean-shaven man with a bald head and striking features, clad in simple garments of light brown.

Gellana stood inside the doorway, quietly looking at her sleeping patient. Slowly, like a cat, Xzar slunk into the room to stand next to her.

"He was brought in here by three others," she said, her voice low and toneless. "They told me they were ambushed by a wizard."

There was a very long pause, silent except for the patient's laboured breathing. Neither of them moved a muscle or looked away from him.

"Never seen anything like it in all my years, adventuring or healing," Gellana went on. "At least a dozen spells, I counted. Glittergold knows how many more. Myself and three other healers spent six whole hours on him. Used up nearly a third of all the potions in this temple just to keep his body going." She paused. "It's a miracle he's still alive."

After a moment, she spoke again with still no movement or change in her expression or tone.

"I'm guessing he's the one you're interested in."

Xzar said nothing. Another still, silent moment passed.

Then Gellana slowly turned around and exited the room, closing the door behind her. Her footfalls echoed softly off the stone floor, each step slow and deliberate, as she made her way back to the main area of the temple, her expression stone-faced.

Xzar remained in place for several minutes, still as a statue, watching the man's broad chest rise and fall, his breathing occasionally punctured by a wheeze or cough.

Then he walked slowly over to the stool and sat on it facing the man. He tilted his head widely to the side, his eyes half-lidded and his expression one of mild curiosity.

"Sarevok Anchev, I presume," he said softly.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"Well, my friends, the hour grows late and I must take my leave." Standing up from the table, Tarnesh dropped a key into Dorean's hand. "Enjoy the rest of your meal, Imoen." He paused, smiling down at the dwarf. "I wish you two a good night's rest."

Dorean did not miss a beat, returning the smile without hesitation. "And good luck to you as well."

"I told you, friend; I don't need luck." With a parting smirk, the young wizard turned and walked off in the direction of the exit.

"Tank yew ahn goo-buy!" said Imoen. Dorean closed his eyes and sighed.

"Please stop doing that."

"Doo-eng wat?" Imoen paused to swallow, then picked up her half-eaten pudding pie and held it out to him. "You want some?"

"No," replied Dorean, his head turned to the side and eyes still following Tarnesh out of the inn. He fingered the key in his left hand. "So I guess we got a noble-class room."

"Yep. Real nice of him to give it to us," Imoen replied, still holding out the pie. She waved it slightly at Dorean, who ignored the gesture.

"Yeah," said Dorean quietly. When Tarnesh had disappeared beyond the large front doors in a billow of black and green, he turned his gaze to the key in his hand. "Even though there were three people in front of us when we got to the counter."

Giving up, Imoen returned the pie to her side of the table and shrugged her shoulders. "We got lucky. Tymora's my god, after all."

Dorean frowned at the key in his hand, then stowed it in his pocket. "You might be right," he said distractedly. Placing his elbows on the table, the dwarf then steepled his fingers together and leaned his chin on them. Noticing this, Imoen tilted her head to the side.

"So," she said after a moment of silence. "Where do you think these friends of Mr. G could be?"

When Dorean did not answer, Imoen straightened, looking worriedly at him, and set down her knife and fork. "Little brother?"

The dwarf looked up at her, paused for a moment, then turned, hopped off his chair and headed for Montaron.

Without turning to look at or even glance at him, the halfling put down his quill and set aside his parchment as Dorean approached.

"Buy you a drink?"

After a moment of glancing at him sideways with a bored, aloof expression, Montaron jerked his chin at the empty stool next to him. "Elminster's Choice," he said as the dwarf took his seat. Dorean then waved over a gnomish barmaid and ordered the beer for Montaron and a fruit juice for himself, which elicited a titter from her.

"Sorry," she said when Dorean frowned and cocked his head at her. "I just realized that this is the first time I've ever taken a drink order from a dwarf that was anything other than the strongest stuff we have." Her good-natured laughter slowly died in the wake of Montaron's cold, one-eyed, sideways gaze. "Right, Elminster's Choice and fruit juice," she said quickly, then turned around and scurried away.

She returned a few minutes later, placed the drinks on the table while leaning away from Montaron, and scurried away again.

Wisely deciding to say nothing, Dorean sipped his own drink while Montaron took a draught of the beer with his left hand while the right covered the parchment. "What is it?"

"It's the people I'm supposed to meet," said Dorean, keeping his gaze on his own hands. "I believe I've located them."

"So meet them, then," replied the halfling dismissively. He took another draught of beer.

Dorean breathed deeply. _Best not to be indirect with him._ "I don't trust them."

"Then don't meet them," replied the halfling without hesitating. Dorean took another deep breath, managing not to grind his teeth.

"I want you to get close and eavesdrop on them."

"No."

Having expected the answer, Dorean kept his voice calm and his gaze on his own drink. "The meeting was meant to have them join me and my father. Wouldn't you want to learn more about the people you may be working with?" He paused. "They are Harpers, after all. It may help you to know something _especially_ if you don't trust them."

Montaron paused with the tankard halfway to his lips. Dorean resisted the urge to hold his breath, breathing steadily and keeping his eyes on his own hands and drink. After a moment, the halfling set the tankard gently on the table and let go of its handle. Another moment passed in silence.

Eventually, Montaron picked up his tankard, drank slowly and then set it down.

"Ye got some mouth on ye, kid," he said quietly, looking straight ahead rather than glancing at the dwarf beside him. "Yer da taught ye to talk like that?"

Dorean's left hand clenched into a fist on the table and began to tremble. Staring intently at it, he closed his eyes and took another deep breath, exhaling loudly through his large, hooked nose. He then opened them as a thought occurred to him, then turned his head away from Montaron's side.

A few tables away, Imoen was watching them both from the corner of her eye while cutting up the rest of the pie. She paused upon noticing her roommate glancing at her. No one else around them seemed to have noticed the exchange between the dwarf and halfling.

As he looked at her, Dorean heard Xzar's voice in his mind, directed at Imoen.

 _I think he likes you._

He lowered his head, slowly turning back to his table.

 _He's refusing to help me because he doesn't want her out of his sight._

After a moment's pause, Dorean nodded. "I understand," he said quietly. "It was wrong of me to ask this of you. My apologies." He got off his seat. "Enjoy your drink, Montaron," he said without looking at the halfling.

Imoen's mouth opened to speak as Dorean approached, but he waved her into silence.

"I need to...look, just stay here, okay? Stay right here. Don't go anywhere." He wagged his finger once at her for emphasis.

The concern in Imoen's expression did not fade. "You're up to something."

Dorean took yet another deep breath. "Yeah, I am. I'll explain later. For now, just...stay here."

Imoen hesitated, then nodded.

"Hey," she said as he was turning to leave. "Did he say where Xzar was?"

Dorean paused, then simply shook his head at her and walked off.

Imoen watched him go, then mimicked his action in breathing deeply before being distracted by the arrival of her desert.

As she tucked into her large slice of strawberry-and-cream cake, Montaron sat unmoving, his eyes following Dorean across the common room, before turning back to his parchment and picking up his raven quill.

..

* * *

He awoke to a world of pain. His first conscious breath was like a knife in his side, and the mere effort of opening his eyes sent needles shooting through his head.

Everything hurt. _Everything._

Slamming his eyes shut and tensing his muscles, he closed his hands into fists, riding the pain wracking his entire body. His teeth grinded together, and trickles of blood flowed from the corners of his lips.

Then it was over; the lightning coursing through him began to settle down. Keeping his eyes closed, he fought to control his breathing from a series of gasps to slow, steady heaves. As he did so, he realized from the moisture on his skin and the mattress that he was covered in sweat.

When the pain had lessened to a dull agony, Sarevok blearily opened his eyes to find the room spinning. He slowly closed and opened them again.

He then realized that he was not alone.

"You are awake," Xzar said quietly. "Good. I thought that you would surely pass out again."

Sarevok's first instinct was to reach out, grab hold of this stranger by the neck, and demand answers. However, his arms refused to move, and the mere mental command to his limbs sent waves of pain shooting through his body again.

"Paralytic agent," said Xzar smoothly, holding up a small glass vial half-full of yellowish fluid. "It renders the victim helpless for several minutes. Enough for the sea snake to devour its prey alive." Smiling pleasantly, he stowed it within his robes. "I had to make a few modifications. People are usually considerably larger than a fish." He paused. "Except for faeries, if they count," he added distractedly. He then blinked and looked back to Sarevok. "I am sorry for waking you," he went on, holding up another vial containing a light-blue liquid. "But I could not pass up the chance to speak with you. So...I woke you up." He paused again. "And yet, now that you are awake...I don't know where to start."

He put away the vial and lifted his gaze from Sarevok's face. "Do you know what this room was used for, before the Mirrorshades arrived?" His green eyes moved over the bare, undecorated walls. "No...no, I doubt it. It would have been before your time. How ironic, that one such as you would end up in it, and why."

"Who. _Are. You_?" Sarevok growled, pain coursing from his throat to his stomach with every word. His face contorted in rage when the wizard did not answer and instead continued to look around the room. He attempted again to sit up, and his chest nearly imploded in protest.

"I find it curious, the manner in which you targeted him," said Xzar, ignoring Sarevok's gasps and heaves as he struggled to steady his breathing again. "You could have easily hired someone else to do it, perhaps while he was in Candlekeep." He lowered his head, still looking at the wall across from Sarevok's bed.

"But you wanted...you _needed_...to do it yourself. You needed to look him in the eye." He then turned his gaze to Sarevok's torso. "Hence your current state." His eyes slowly travelled up to the man's face, and golden eyes narrowed slightly upon meeting green.

"You should not be ashamed," Xzar went on, his voice turning gentle. He patted Sarevok's arm. "You did not know. Or perhaps you did," he added, smirking. "But the man you killed was one of the most _talented_ wizards of his generation. A shame that he joined the Harpers; he would have made a great Zhent. Before it all went wrong, of course..." He smiled at Sarevok blinking in confusion, and again looked away.

"I helped the dwarf to bury him," he whispered to the wall. "It was the least I could do for him, after all." He paused, his expression melancholic. "Part of me wishes I could have gotten to him sooner. The other parts, though..." he trailed off, smiling sadly.

"So," snarled Sarevok, biting back a cough. "You're with him. And you're here to...to kill me." His cheeks flushed red and his breathing intensified. "Sending you to...finish me off instead...of doing it himself. Coward."

For the next few minutes, Xzar stared pensively and silently at him, and there was no sound aside from Sarevok's breathing.

Xzar then reached out with his uninjured hand to Sarevok's torso, ignoring his grunts and snarls of outrage and pain. Long, thin fingers trailed along his abdomen to his chest, their touch soft and delicate, not unlike that of a lover, noting the numerous scars, burns and bruises.

He reached Sarevok's neck. His expression blank, Xzar then closed his fingers around his throat without applying pressure. He remained in place for a long time, staring into Sarevok's eyes.

When he spoke again, his voice was now so soft and audible that Sarevok barely heard him.

"This is nothing to you, isn't it?" he whispered.

After a moment, he lowered his face so close, inches apart from Sarevok's, that for one horrifying second the latter thought that Xzar was going to kiss him.

Instead, the wizard peered straight into the fighter's eyes, seeming to lose himself in the twin pools of glowing gold.

"Hate," he said, his voice slightly louder this time. "That is the answer. It is why you still live; what drove you then, and drives you now." He paused, still staring into Sarevok's eyes. "Vengeance. On the people who wronged you. On those who hurt you, those who _used_ you. But not just them...no, not just them. You want vengeance on the world itself...and on your father."

Silence. He could feel the necromancer's breath on his lips; warm, in contrast to the cold fingers around his neck.

Then, after several seconds which seemed like minutes, Xzar leaned back and relinquished his hold on Sarevok. He returned his gaze to the opposite wall, hands resting on his lap.

"He does not know that you are here," he said softly. "If he did, It would likely be him in this room now, instead of me. No...I came here for just one thing."

Sarevok's breathing slowed, his fury replaced by confusion and then grim resignation. "Speak, then."

Xzar smiled, leaning backwards on the stool. "Some, I already know. The rest, I could guess. But there is one thing that I need, that I _must_ have, here and now. And it cannot be a guess, it must be an answer. One that only you can provide."

Sarevok involuntarily held his breath as Xzar turned his gaze onto his face once again. When he spoke, his voice was once again a low, soft whisper.

"Why do you hate him?"

Sarevok paused, his face blank and fingers slackening on the mattress. Then, slowly, his lips tightened into a thin line and he glared coldly at the necromancer.

"You do not wish to answer." Xzar said lightly. "Then perhaps I should change the subject. How about your mother? Your real one, I mean, not Madam Anchev. She was your very first victim, if my information is accurate."

Sarevok's face slackened, losing all emotion.

In a split-second, he had risen off the bed with arms outstretched. He stopped suddenly with his fingers inches from Xzar's face, then fell back onto the bed. Spasms wracked his entire body, and he craned his neck upward, his chin pointed toward the ceiling. A low, guttural howl emitted from between his clenched teeth.

"Deep breaths," said Xzar, reaching over and rubbing the man's broad chest.

A few minutes later, Sarevok visibly relaxed, his breathing reduced to slow, ragged gasps.

"I am sorry," said Xzar, still rubbing Sarevok's chest. "I truly am. But I need my answer." He raised his hand slightly, leaving his fingers on the man's skin.

"You are a dead man." The five words from Sarevok's lips were not a threat made from rage, but a grim, solemn promise. He stared coldly into Xzar's eyes, forcing the necromancer's face into his memory. "You are dead," he said softly.

After a long moment, Sarevok slowly looked away towards the ceiling.

"He was my friend."

There was a long pause. When Sarevok spoke again, his voice was hushed and cracked.

"He said he loved me. Loved me like he would his own brother. And then barely an _hour_ later..." he trailed off.

Silence fell upon the room. Xzar blinked at him silently for several seconds, then lowered his gaze to the floor. He nodded to himself a few times, then looked back up to the opposite wall again.

"His powers have awoken," he said, causing Sarevok to lift his head slightly to look at him. "Though they have only began to develop. It is odd that they should do so the day after his foster parent died." He paused for a long moment, then turned his gaze to Sarevok.

"And yet," he said slowly. "He has made far more progress than you."

The confusion and uncertainty left Sarevok's face, replaced by rage. For the first time, the emotion in Xzar's voice was clear to him now. The wizard was _disappointed_.

"He does not speak to you. You have no connection with him. None whatsoever." He shook his head and let out a sigh. "After everything Winski told me, I was expecting... _something._ More than this, at least."

Sarevok again tried to rise off the bed, but the immense pain of his wounds and the paralytic agent forced him back down, seething in fury. His eyes widened when Xzar lifted his uninjured hand and muttered a few words of Draconic, covering it in a bluish shimmer barely visible in the low lighting of the room.

"The man you killed in the Lion's Way had many friends; friends who now would very much want to see you dead."

Sarevok thrashed on the bed as Xzar reached out towards his throat.

"One simple touch...what was it she said? 'It would make everything easier for me, all-round," whispered Xzar, dragging out the last two syllables.

For ten seconds, he hovered over Sarevok, the deadly touch-spell inches from the man's neck, before closing his eyes, smiling and retracting his hand.

After a moment's silence, Sarevok could not contain himself. "Why?"

Xzar cocked his head, still smiling.

"Hmm. Good question. Maybe I want to see how things would play out between you and your 'friend'." He turned his gaze to Sarevok, and his grin widened, exposing his teeth. "Or maybe...maybe I am just mad." Without warning, he broke into a fit of giggles, hugging his chest as his body trembled on the stool.

"I am going to kill you," Sarevok growled. Xzar's grin widened further, stretching from ear to ear. Chortling to himself, he then took out a syringe from the sleeve of his robe and promptly jabbed it into Sarevok's arm.

"You will wake up a day from now," he said. "By then we will be far away, and you will have to hurry back to Baldur's Gate. Can't keep your foster father waiting after all, can you?"

As his eyelids grew heavy and the curtain of sleep fell upon him, Sarevok gave Xzar a look of pure hatred, silently promising him a slow and painful death. Then his head hit the pillow, and he was still.

Putting away the syringe, Xzar leaned back with his hands on his knees. His soft laughter abruptly died, though his smile did not. He spent the next few minutes gazing quietly at the sleeping man, then reached over and gently wiped beads of sweat off of his forehead.

Xzar then rose and made for the door. He paused upon the threshold for one more look at Sarevok. His eyes half-closed, Xzar's lips curled into a small, malevolent smile.

"Get well soon."

..

* * *

When Dorean returned to his seat at their table, Imoen hesitated before pushing a very large tankard towards him.

"Thanks, but no," he said distractedly, his head turned away as he discreetly looked around the common room.

"I ordered this for you," she said cheerfully. Dorean blinked and looked at her, then at the tankard.

He inhaled briefly and instantly recognized the beverage. "This is Evermead," he said blankly.

"Costs twenty gold, but worth every drop," she said, the cheeriness in her voice faltering very slightly. Slowly, Dorean lifted his eyes to her face.

"Imoen," he said slowly. "This is not a good time for me to get drunk."

The pink girl's face fell, and she slowly retracted her hand from the tankard. Suddenly feeling guilty, Dorean looked away from her.

"I was going to throw you a going-away party," said Imoen quietly, looking away from him as well. "Stuff your belly and pockets full of food and drink. Give you some presents." She paused. "I just thought you needed some cheering up after...what happened."

Dorean went very still, his expression slackening. Then he sighed, took the tankard and sipped.

The instant the liquor reached his tongue, an immediate warmth spread throughout his body, overwhelming his senses. He paused, momentarily lowering the tankard, then took a long draught.

When he lowered it again, he saw Imoen looking at him, the corners of her lips slowly curling upwards.

"It's nice to see you smile again."

"How do you know I'm smiling?" replied Dorean, pointing at his beard. Imoen's grin widened, stretching from ear-to-ear.

"You can't hide anything from me, little brother," she said wryly.

She waited for him to take another long draught of Evermead, then leaned forward with her elbows on the table and her hands cupping her cheeks.

"So, what were ya up to just now?"


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

 _Jaheira pushed open the door without knocking and stepped inside. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of the two men in the room beyond, noting the packs at their feet and that they were both dressed and equipped for travel. They looked up from the map on the desk as Khalid hurried into the room after her._

 _No one spoke or moved for a long moment. The stouter of the two men then quietly rolled up and put away the map. He reached down and shouldered the larger of the two packs._

 _"I'll be outside."_

 _He strode towards the two half-elves without a word or glance at them, ignoring Jaheira's glare and nodding his head in gratitude to Khalid when the latter quietly stood aside to allow him through to the doorway._

 _When she could no longer hear his footsteps descending the nearby stairs, Jaheira silently turned back to the room's remaining occupant, the intensity of her glare not lessening one iota._

 _Gorion met it with a stoic, stony expression; the mask he had worn since the events of the previous day._

 _The silence continued for a few more minutes with neither of them moving and Khalid nervously looking from one to the other._

 _"So this is how you are leaving?" Jaheira said at last. "Without a word to either of us?"_

 _Gorion looked away from her, closing and opening the fingers of his right hand resting on the desk. "What do you want me to say?" he asked quietly._

 _Another long moment passed before Jaheira spoke again._

 _"I don't suppose you are going to tell us where you are going."_

 _Gorion did not move or speak._

 _"Or what you will be doing, or why."_

 _He lowered his head._

 _"Or why you now trust that snake more than us."_

 _"That is not true."_

 _"Judging by how thick as thieves you two have become, and that we have both been shut out from your dealings? I strongly disagree."_

 _"I do_ _ **not**_ _trust Winthrop. I need his help, and he needs mine."_

 _"So that's what this is?" said Jaheira, her voice growing more disdainful. "Mutual benefit?" She folded her arms. "You do not wish to consider if perhaps the true reason you are working with him is that you are either being manipulated, or have taken complete leave of your senses?"_

 _Gorion closed his eyes and slowly lifted his head to face her before opening them. His stony expression was gone, replaced with a cold, icy glare to match Jaheira's._

 _Jaheira's fingers tug into the skin of her forearms. Her lower jaw trembled. She opened her mouth to speak again and felt Khalid's hand on her shoulder._

 _The Calishite slowly moved past her, stopping directly in front of Gorion. The wizard's glare immediately faded, his features softening as he looked at his old friend._

 _After a moment, Khalid reached out and gently grasped Gorion by the forearm under the elbow._

 _"If you have need of us, don't hesitate to send word."_

 _He gave a small smile. After a moment, Gorion returned it, grasping Khalid's hand in his own._

 _He released the handshake, picked up and shouldered his pack, and then made for the door._

 _Jaheira stood unmoving, her arms still folded across her chest and staring at the spot behind the desk where he had been seconds ago._

 _Gorion stopped in front of and slightly to her right. He lowered his head, closing his eyes, then turned to look at her face. Eventually, after nearly a full minute, Jaheira met his gaze._

 _"I promise you," he said softly. "One day, when it is over, I will tell you everything. All of it."_

 _He held her gaze for a moment longer, then turned and gave Khalid a slight nod. Gorion looked back to Jaheira again, blinked once, then turned and left the room._

 _Her eyes followed him as he crossed the short, narrow hallway to the stairwell. She stayed still, listening to his soft footsteps descending the stairs._

 _Twenty-two years later, Khalid and Jaheira were in Baldur's Gate, preparing to travel south to Nashkel. They received an urgent letter in the mail._

 _Its contents were brief._

'Destroy this message after you have read it, and do not speak of it to anyone.

Gorion has asked to meet you at the Friendly Arm Inn in a few days. He will be accompanied by his son.'

 _There was no signature._

..

* * *

"Jaheira?"

"Hm?"

"Are you alright?"

Jaheira blinked, looking up at her husband's face. She hesitated, then leaned her quarterstaff against the side of the chair next to his and sat down, sinking slightly into the soft, cushiony material.

"It has been too long."

"He is only a day late."

"He has never once been late before. Not once."

"He will be here soon. There's no need to worry."

Jaheira quietly leaned forward, interlocking her fingers and placing her hands on the table. Her expression did not change, but her knuckles whitened as her hands tightened their grip on each other.

"He will explain everything when he gets here," said Khalid reassuringly, placing his hand on Jaheira's. "We will not leave without him. Berrun can wait."

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. After a moment, Jaheira nodded and looked up at him. They smiled simultaneously.

"Well aren't yous the swee'ust an' lovelee'is couple I have seen all week!" said a gnomish barmaid behind them. Khalid jumped, released Jaheira's hand and spun around in his seat to face her while Jaheira's smile instantly became a frown. "You young'uns remind me of myself and my second hubby some years back," the barmaid added, seemingly not noticing either of their reactions.

"Well, here you are." She moved between them and set down two glasses of white wine on the table. "From your friend."

Jaheira immediately sat up, her eyes widening. "What 'friend'?"

The barmaid hesitated, turning from Jaheira to Khalid with her serving tray held to her chest. "Urm...I don't know. He didn't give his name. Just said he wanted to buy some drinks for his friends." She paused. "Oh, and he gave me a message for you." She held up a small slip of parchment which Jaheira snatched within a half-second of seeing, then nervously bowed and hurried away.

"Who is it?" said Khalid, glancing at the wine glasses. "Gorion?"

"No name again," replied Jaheira. "It just says..."

..

* * *

"...grounds outside the inn entrance at midnight."

Imoen stared at Dorean, her meal left cooling and forgotten in front of her. "Why there?" she said slowly. "And why midnight?"

"It's a few hours from now. If we're lucky, they will head there early." He paused to take another sip of Evermead. "Should give you plenty of time to get into and search the room."

"You want me to break into their room while you meet with them alone?" Imoen asked, speaking even slower than before.

Dorean paused. "Yes. I've checked, you can't miss it. It's the only royal suite in the inn. Takes up about half the top floor."

Setting her knife and fork down, Imoen began rubbing her elbows. "...I don't know about this, Dorean. Can't we just go talk to them?"

"And I will. At midnight." Dorean said simply. He blinked, realizing that his tankard was now empty. He looked back to Imoen. "Will you do this, Imoen? Please?"

Imoen paused, biting her bottom lip, then closed her eyes and sighed. It took her a long moment before she opened her eyes again. "Alright. But you'll owe me."

"I will," Dorean nodded, glancing at his tankard again. "I could actually go for another one of these..."

"Dorean."

He hiccupped. "How much did you say an Evermead costs in here? Twenty, was it?"

 _"Dorean."_

"What?"

"You didn't write anything in that note that might help them find you _here_ , did ya?"

Dorean blinked. "No. Not unless they could track me by my scent on it. Why?"

Feeling slightly groggy, it took a moment for him to realize that Imoen was not looking at him but behind him.

He paused, then slowly turned around in his seat and looked up into the oblong face of a woman with blonde-brown hair, pointed ears and cyan eyes.

"Where is he?"

Dorean blinked, setting down his tankard and bringing both hands to rest on his legs. His eyes moved briefly from her face to her hands; there was a crushed slip of parchment in her fist. He paused, his expression calm and bored-looking.

"Where is he?" Jaheira repeated coldly.

Imoen looked quickly from one to the other, then at Khalid as the latter hurried up behind Jaheira.

When Dorean still said nothing, Jaheira uncrumbled the note and held it up to his face.

"This is yours. Do **not** deny it, or that you know who I am speaking of." She lowered the note, dropping it to the floor.

Khalid placed a hand on her shoulder. "J-Jaheira, p-p-please-"

"Where is he?" Jaheira said again, jerking her shoulder to shrug off his hand.

As the seconds went by in silence, Imoen looked frantically to Dorean. The dwarf had gone completely still, eyes staring blankly at a point several inches to Jaheira's left.

 _I need to do something._

She opened her mouth to speak.

"He's in a clearing in the Lion's Way, where we left him," said Dorean.

The other three froze, staring at him. Dorean slowly lifted his head to meet Jaheira's gaze, reading every inch of her face.

Jaheira's expression had gone slack. The thin, close-lipped grimace was still there, but her eyes were no longer flashing in anger.

"We had just crossed the causeway from Candlekeep when we were attacked by gibberlings," said Dorean, speaking slowly and sounding more calm than he felt. "They turned out to be illusions. My father then told me to get off the road and follow him through the undergrowth. When we got to the clearing, we were ambushed." He paused, glancing at Khalid's stricken expression. "The leader said that they would spare him if he gave me up. He refused." Dorean paused again, looking back to Jaheira. "We returned to the clearing in the morning and buried him there."

Neither of the half-elves moved, appearing to the world to have been petrified without the appearance of stone. Jaheira continued to stare at Dorean, her expression now blank. She blinked once, twice, three times, then lowered her gaze to the floor. Glancing at Khalid again, Dorean noted that he had gone pale as a ghost.

 _That seems good enough_ , he said silently to himself.

But then another voice in his head said, _Is it?_ _They approached me, remember?_

"It wasn't luck or chance that caused this," he said tonelessly, causing the half-elves and Imoen to look at him. "They were waiting for us to leave. They knew what he would do upon realizing the trick with the gibberlings. They also knew which direction he would take; through the forest and straight for the Friendly Arm."

He paused, again moving his eyes from Jaheira's face to Khalid's. The first inner voice, the one that approved of their reactions, screamed at him to stop, but he pushed onwards, fuelled by the alcohol in his system.

"They knew him well. Very well, in fact. Which made me wonder if they knew him at all." He paused. "If they did not, in fact, got their information on him from someone else."

The inn continued to bustle, yet somehow a silence seemed to have fallen on all four of them. Imoen straightened, her eyes wide and staring at Dorean. She looked back to Khalid and Jaheira, suddenly noting that both of them were armed and standing very close to the dwarf.

Dorean's expression remained calm and bored, looking up at Jaheira's face. The slackened expression was gone, along with all emotion and feeling.

The image of Gorion collapsing backwards in a spray of red filled his vision yet again.

 _The hell with it._

"I noticed that you have taken the royal suite here," he said casually. "You must have had to pay a lot of money for it." He widened his eyes slightly, staring straight into Jaheira's. "Are you celebrating something?"

One second passed.

Then her hands rushed forward, grabbing him by the front of his shirt, and he was lifted up and slammed down onto the table. Dishes and cutlery broke and clattered on the floor as fingers reached for his neck.

"J-JAHEIRA!" shouted Khalid, rushing forward and grabbing her around her middle.

"Dorean!" cried Imoen, leaping up and throwing herself across the table to grab Jaheira's forearm.

"J-Jaheira, please c-c- _calm down_ -"

"Let him go!" Imoen pulled on the arm with all her might, failing to budge it in the slightest.

Jaheira silently fought Khalid's attempts to pull her backwards, maintaining her hold on the dwarf's neck.

Khalid gave a quick look around. Every eye in the inn was on them now, and Bentley Mirrorshade had left the counter and was hurrying towards them.

Even as his heart was racing in his chest, Dorean maintained his calm expression, forcing himself not to raise his hands to the fingers around his neck. He did not blink, rapidly scanning and noting every detail in the face now inches from his.

 _Eyes narrowed and flashing. Yet her lips are still closed and unmoved._

 _Enraged, yet still in shock._

"It wasn't you," he whispered.

Jaheira's eyes widened in realization, then narrowed again. Her lower jaw quivered, and she began to tremble from head to foot.

Then she released him, standing up so swiftly and suddenly that Khalid released her in surprise and staggered backwards.

Jaheira immediately turned around and walked quickly towards the stairs. Two guards moved to intercept her, then stepped aside with bewildered expressions at a shouted order from Bentley. The innkeeper waited until she was gone, then moved over to Dorean, Imoen and Khalid.

"Anyone get hurt?" he asked sagely.

"No...I am fine, thank you," said Dorean, sitting up on the table and rubbing his throat as Imoen moved to stand next to him.

"So what was that about?" said Bentley, folding his arms. "I like you kids, but ya know the rules say no fighting."

Khalid opened his mouth, but Dorean interrupted him.

"It's not her fault. I started it."

Bentley, Imoen and Khalid all looked at him. The innkeeper cocked his head.

"I...accused her of being involved in the death of...a friend of ours. He was killed a few days ago." He looked at Khalid, watching the man's expression. Bentley paused, looking at Khalid as well, then sighed and uncrossed his arms, bringing one of his small hands to his forehead and rubbing it. After a moment, the half-elf lowered his head and turned to the innkeeper.

"I am t-t-terribly s-sorry about this..."

"It's alright," said Bentley, uncrossing his arms and waving a hand at Khalid. He was still looking at Dorean. "I won't hold it against ya. Either o' ya. But I'd appreciate it if ya both go to your rooms now." He nodded to a couple of barmaids, then turned around and made his way back towards the counter.

For a moment, there was silence between the remaining three individuals. They stayed still, listening to the barmaids quietly gather the fallen dishes and cutlery. Then Khalid slowly lifted his head and turned to Dorean and Imoen.

"Bentley and Gellana Mirrorshade are our friends. When we arrived here, they insisted on giving us their best room." He paused, looking at Dorean, and when he spoke again his voice was considerably softer. "I will talk to her. If you wish to speak to us again, we will be here in morning."

He turned and walked away, keeping his gaze lowered to avoid the stares of the other patrons and customers.

Dorean waited for him to leave, paused for a long moment, then hopped off the table and headed for the stairs. Imoen followed closely and quietly behind him.

They both glanced at Montaron as they passed his table. Aside from a raised eyebrow, his expression was one of utter indifference.

..

* * *

Khalid ascended the stairs slowly, his face pale and expression clouded.

He paused on the stairs leading from the second to the third floor of the inn, then suddenly staggered and grabbed the handrail with both hands. He fell to his knees, his breathing heavy and his chest heaving up and down. It took him several minutes to regain control of himself, and eventually the colour returned to his face and he was able to stand up again without convulsing.

Grateful that no one was around to see him, Khalid resumed climbing the stairs and reached the top floor.

He passed a nobleman dressed in extravagant gold-coloured clothing, ignoring his indignant complaints of loud noises coming from Khalid's room. The half-elf pushed open the unlocked double doors at the end of the hall, and entered, closing them behind him.

The spacious, luxuriously furnished and decorated Royal Suite of the Friendly Arm was now in shambles. Fragments, pieces and splinters of glass, ceramic and wood were strewn all over the floor. The remains of a wardrobe lay in a corner where it had been violently flung, and the roof of the king-sized bed had collapsed onto the mattress.

In the middle of it all was Jaheira. She was seated on the floor, her head lowered and hands resting on her knees. Her quarterstaff lay beside her where she had dropped it.

Khalid paused, then quietly walked over and sat down beside her. She did not look up or move.

"I'll explain to Bentley in the morning, and pay him for the damages," he said softly.

"No. You won't."

"He is our friend, Jaheira. And this is his inn."

"He is a fool," she replied harshly. "Bernard, Ribald, Firecam, Khelben, Elminster...they are _all_ fools, Khalid. And Gorion is the _worst_ of all of them."

Khalid paused, turning to look at his wife. "You don't mean that."

"Yes I do!" she suddenly shouted, lifting her head to look at him with blazing eyes. "He _abandoned_ us, Khalid! Disappeared for twenty-two years! Twenty. Two. _Years_! And then he comes back into our lives only for our help...and that _dwarf_...accuses _us_ of..." She trailed off, looking away from him. Khalid paused, then slowly turned his gaze to the door.

"He is scared," he said, his voice lower and softer than before. "He doesn't know who to turn to or trust. What he said...he wasn't thinking properly. He couldn't have." He paused. "He's only a child, Jaheira."

There was silence and stillness. Then, noticing Jaheira's shoulders and arms begining to tremble, Khalid silently leaned into and wrapped his arms around her.

She stayed still for a moment, then ceased resisting and turned to him, her head resting sideways on his shoulder. Khalid curled his fingers in hers, he held Jaheira firmly but gently as she began to weep in his arms. He closed his eyes and laid his chin on her shoulder. As her sobs became louder, Khalid embraced her fully, and she buried her face in his chest as an anguished wail escaped her throat, muffled against his armour.

..

* * *

The room previously occupied by Tarnesh turned out to be one of the Friendly Arm's noble suites. Like in the common room, all of the furniture, from the beds to the chairs, was rather low for humans.

The suite came with a bathroom and hot water, for which Imoen was very thankful. Despite it having been only a few days, it had felt more like a week to her since she left Candlekeep.

Unfortunately, the water was lukewarm by the time she was able to use the bath; Dorean had told her to wait at the end of the hallway while he unlocked the door to the suite, then spent fifteen minutes checking it before allowing her in.

Imoen emerged from the bathroom a half-hour later, dressed in a white-coloured, skirted chemise from the one of the wardrobes, to find Dorean pushing a bedside table in front of the door. She stopped at the bathroom doorway, quietly watching him.

Having positioned the top of the table underneath the doorknob, Dorean then moved a chair next to his bed, removed and placed his belt on the chair along with one of his knives. The dwarf then removed a smoking pipe from his pack and turned the head cloakwise to remove it. He then placed the blowpipe on the chair next to the belt and knife. Finally, with an audible sigh, he dropped his pack on the floor next to the bed.

He paused, then removed and pocketed his hair pins. The tight bun at the back of his head unravelled, allowing his long brown hair to fall onto and across his shoulders.

"You should get some sleep," he said quietly. Without looking at her, he climbed onto his own bed and sat up with his back against the head-board, of which he had draped his cloak over. "We need to be up at dawn tomorrow."

Imoen did not move. "Are you okay?" She asked gently.

"She didn't really hurt me."

"I know. It's not what I meant." She took a few steps closer to him, tilting her head to the side. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Dorean hesitated for a long moment before looking up at her.

"I'm fine, Imoen," he said softly. "Really. Go to sleep."

She paused, lowered her head, then quietly nodded and got into her bed.

Dorean stayed still without so much as turning his head, listening to her breathing becoming slower and more gradual as fatigue and a full stomach sent Imoen off to sleep. He remained that way for several more minutes, then leaned backwards and lifted his gaze to the ceiling.

"I made a mistake back there, didn't I?" he whispered.

He closed his eyes, sighed inaudibly, then reached into his pack on the floor beside the bed and took out a book, roll of parchment, ink bottle and quill-pen.

Resting the book on his lap as a surface for the parchment, he dipped the quill into the bottle and began to write.

..

* * *

Tarnesh paused to glance over his shoulder. It was now a few hours past midnight. Nearly all of the guests and staff had gone to their rooms and, as he had mentioned earlier to Imoen and 'Dorn', all of the guards had been posted on the walls. There was no sound except for the soft crackling of the wall-mounted torches and his footsteps echoing slightly in the needlessly large and high-ceilinged corridor despite his slow, careful stride.

He slowed down upon reaching the passageway leading to his room. Once more, he checked behind him and saw no one. Then, taking one step every two seconds, he moved up to the door of the room now occupied by the dwarf and girl he had met earlier.

After turning his head left and right to check both ends of the corridor, Tarnesh held his hands out to the doorknob and whispered the words to a spell.

He smirked upon hearing the audible 'click' of the lock, looked both ways down the corridor again, then placed his hand on the knob and started to turn it when a green-sleeved forearm wrapped around his throat from behind.

His eyes widening, Tarnesh instinctively raised his hands to the arm, but in the next half-second was forced to the ground as his attacker turned sideways and fell to his own knees, planting one of them on Tarnesh's thigh to prevent him from thrashing out with his feet.

Unable to move or even gasp for breath, Tarnesh's bugged-out eyes flew upwards to meet his assailant's.

Xzar gave Tarnesh a wide, close-lipped smile to accompany his bright green stare, then tightened his grip and wrenched sideways. There was a soft 'crack', barely audible over the crackling of the torches.

He stayed still for a moment, then slowly lowered Tarnesh's head to the ground, releasing the chokehold. Tilting his head to the side, Xzar used his index and middle fingers to close Tarnesh's eye-lids. He then reached into and removed three parchment scrolls from the dead man's robes.

Standing up, Xzar tucked two of the scrolls under his arm before unrolling the first one. He looked it and the second scroll over briefly before rolling them back up and stowing them in his own robes. He paused upon unrolling the third and final scroll, his eyes moving rapidly back and forth in silent reading. Slowly, the corners of his lips rose to his ears in a wide grin.

When he had finished reading, he lowered the scroll and raised his head.

"You can come out now," he purred.

Xzar stayed still, standing over Tarnesh's body with the scroll in his hands, facing the opposite wall. After a moment, Jaheira emerged from the end of the corridor while Khalid appeared from the other side.

They approached swiftly and quietly, Jaheira clasping her quarterstaff in both hands with the front end pointed up towards Xzar, and Khalid with his sword held in his right hand at his side while his shield remained on his back.

They both stopped several paces away from Xzar, appraising him with caution and suspicion, though Khalid's face showed more of the former and Jaheira's the latter. The wizard turned his head first to Khalid and then to Jaheira, giving them both a languid smile.

"Who are you?" said Jaheira, her voice quiet yet demanding.

Xzar turned his head slightly to face her, keeping his body facing towards the wall opposite of Dorean and Imoen's room door. At his height, the wizard was a full head taller than both of the half-elves.

He opened his mouth to speak, then abruptly closed it, his smile fading as he focused on Jaheira's face, noting the reddened area around her eyes.

Jaheira blinked at his silence for a half-second before her eyes narrowed again, and she took a step forward, tightening her grip on her quarterstaff. "Answer me."

Xzar looked away, facing the wall again, and lowered his head, seemingly lost in deep thought and forgetting where he was or why. Khalid and Jaheira exchanged glances, then advanced even further on the green-robed wild-haired wizard.

"What are your names?" said Xzar abruptly, lifting his head and looking from Jaheira to Khalid.

Again the half-elves stopped, glancing at each other. Then Jaheira's glare returned with renewed intensity, and she marched straight up to Xzar, her quarterstaff stopping inches from his neck.

"Tell us now, lest you find yourself explaining this to the guards," she growled, jerking her head at the body beneath Xzar's feet.

Slowly, Xzar turned his head to face her, ignoring his hair brushing against the quarterstaff. He paused, then wordlessly held out the open scroll in his hand.

Jaheira froze, her eyes darting to the scroll and then back to Xzar. Khalid blinked, then quickly stepped forward and held the blade of his sword next to Xzar's shoulder, inches from the back of his neck. The wizard remained still, his gaze focused on Jaheira's face.

After a long pause, Jaheira lifted her chin at the tall man. "Hold it up in front of me."

Xzar frowned at her. "You are very rude," he said nonchalantly. "Especially to a stranger what done you no harm." He closed his eyes and sighed dramatically, his shoulders rising and falling, then did as Jaheira asked, holding out the scroll with one hand while the other remained loosely at his side.

There was silence for a few moments as Jaheira, keeping her quarterstaff trained on Xzar, scanned the scroll's contents. She paused for a long moment, her eyes moving to the door of Dorean and Imoen's room, before shifting her gaze back to Xzar.

"That does not answer who you are or why you are here," she said coldly.

Xzar tilted his head to the side, the movement so sudden that Khalid flinched and barely stopped himself from cutting the back of the wizard's neck. Xzar gave him a sideways glance before turning his gaze to the wall once again.

"I was protecting them, of course," he said, his voice tinged with both bemusement and annoyance. "They are my partners, after all."

"P-partners?" said Khalid. He grimaced as Xzar turned his head to face him, wearing a small smile.

"Yes. Partners," he said, lifting a finger in the air and wagging it back and forth, seemingly oblivious to both the sword and quarterstaff inches from his neck. "People working together for a common goal." He clasped his hands together against his chest. "I have been summoned by Berrun Ghastkill, the mayor of Nashkel, to investigate and solve the problems in his region," he said cheerfully.

Another moment passed as Khalid and Jaheira exchanged glances again before looking back to Xzar who was now smiling to himself with his hands tucked into the sleeves of his robes.

"And what interest do the Zhentarim have in the iron crisis?" said Jaheira, her tone icy.

Xzar went very still, staring blankly at the wall. Both half-elves tensed, tightening their grip on their weapons. After a moment, Xzar visibly relaxed and smiled again.

"We just want to know what is going on," he replied. "No more than the Harpers do, eh?"

Muscles tightened in Jaheira's jaw and her eyes narrowed even further. She opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by Khalid.

"What about t-t-them?" He inclined his head toward the door.

Xzar looked down at Khalid, his expression almost friendly despite the sword at his neck. "I asked if they would accompany me to Nashkel and assist me, and they said yes." He paused, lifting his gaze upwards. "It is just a guess, but I believe that they have nowhere to go." He looked back at Khalid. "And no one to turn to." He added, smiling. "You could almost say that I took pity on them."

Khalid's eye-lid twitched involuntarily as he stared into the wizard's bright-green eyes. Xzar turned away suddenly, rubbing his chin, then abruptly faced Jaheira, moving so quickly that Khalid again narrowly stopped himself from striking him.

"I heard of what happened earlier tonight in the common room. Quite da ruckus ya caused," he said, his voice taking on a child-like, mischievous tone. He giggled at Jaheira's frozen expression, and at her hands tightening even further on her quarterstaff.

"I am just guessing again, but...you two may not be taking them with you on your travels, yes?" He brought an index finger to his lips in a display of cheekiness, then lowered his hand, smiling at Jaheira. "Do not worry then, my dear. I will look after them for you."

Out of the corner of her eye, Jaheira saw Khalid's eyes narrow to slits and his mouth parting to bare his teeth. She gave him a warning look and a quick shake of her head, then turned her gaze back to Xzar's smiling face.

After a long moment, she straightened from her combat-ready stance, bringing her quarterstaff to her side and planting one end of the weapon on the ground. She looked at her husband again, and after a moment's hesitation, he lowered his sword to his side, though he did not sheathe it, eyes still narrowed and blazing.

"You should do something about the body," Jaheira said coldly, looking up at Xzar. The wizard blinked, then looked down at Tarnesh.

"Oh," he said, as though he had only noticed it was there. "I should indeed." He lifted his head and gave Jaheira another smile, this one more friendly and pleasant than before. "Thank you." He bent down, placing one hand under Tarnesh's arm.

"Aren't you going to ask your partner to help you?" said Jaheira.

"Hmm? Oh, no need," said Xzar without looking up. "I can manage on my own."

Removing a vial from his robes, he removed its stopper, downed the contents and put away the now-empty vial, all in one smooth motion. He then lifted Tarnesh's body effortlessly. The dead man's neck hung at a grotesque angle, lolling from side to side.

Standing up with his load tucked under one arm, Xzar turned first to Khalid and then to Jaheira, his friendly demeanor unchanged. "Well, I should get rid of this. Then it's off to bed. The hour is late, and I have to wake up early. Important assignment and all that." He gave the half-elves smiles and polite nods which they did not return, then cheerfully walked past Jaheira and headed down the corridor.

The duo watched him out of sight. Then, after a long moment of silence, they both lifted their heads and turned their eyes upwards.

Montaron wordlessly stared back at them from his position in the ceiling rafters, a throwing knife held loosely in his right hand. His black eyes moved slowly from Jaheira's face to Khalid's, his expression blank and emotionless.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

 _Gorion stood at the window to his new room, enjoying the sea breeze. Succumbing to the weight of his eye-lids, he closed his eyes, took a long, deep breath, and exhaled slowly._

 _After a moment, he opened his eyes, looking out at the sun setting over and beyond the Sea of Swords._

 _I have almost forgotten what it was like to see that._

 _He recalled the words of an old partner._

 _'Like sinking into the sea.'_

 _That last word brought forth a recent memory, formed only the previous day; carrying a tiny, terrified dwarven child across a causeway of stone. Gorion blinked, then looked over his shoulder._

 _The child in question was now lying on one of the two beds in the room, of which he had chosen the one furthest from the window._

 _Gorion stood quietly, watching the little dwarf._

 _During his private meeting with Ulraunt and Tethtoril, which had taken up most of the day, Dorean had to wait outside the room. He neither spoke to nor approached anyone. He had taken dinner with Gorion in complete silence, after which he climbed into bed (after finding and using a wooden box for a step) and fell asleep within minutes._

 _Dorean woke up late the next morning, ate his breakfast with Gorion, again in silence, then took one of their room's many books and had been reading it since._

 _There was a faint odour now emitting from the little dwarf; he had neither bathed nor changed out of the tattered, raggedy clothes he had worn on their journey._

 _Gorion paused, then moved from the window towards him. The boy's head shot up at his approach, though this time he did not drop into a defensive stance and brandish a weapon. Moving slowly, Gorion sat on the bed at Dorean's feet. They stayed that way for a long moment, neither moving, speaking or looking away from each other._

 _"What's it about?" said Gorion, breaking the silence._

 _Dorean blinked once, looked down at the book, then silently held it out to him. Gorion took it, pausing briefly to note the size difference in their hands, then turned it over to look at the cover._

 _The artwork was relatively decent, though unimpressive; an armoured, uniformed man, crouching down and holding a lantern over the arm and shoulder of what clearly was a dead body. Frowning, Gorion turned to the inside front cover and read the summary; its story apparently follows a murder investigation in Athkatla, conducted by a city watch officer named Feresh._

 _Briefly noting from the open pages that Dorean had read to about half of it, Gorion lifted his eyes from the book._

 _"What do you like about it?" he asked softly._

 _After a moment of staring at the wizard, Dorean looked away. "I dunno. The investigatin', I guess. Findin' clues. Answers."_

 _Gorion tilted his head slightly to the side to get a better view of Dorean's face._

 _"Feresh is now lookin' at a list of somethin' he calls 'suspects,'" said Dorean. "Not sure what that is."_

 _Gorion lowered his head for a few seconds, then lifted his gaze back to Dorean. "Do you want to know?"_

 _The dwarf blinked at him, twice, then nodded slightly. "Sure."_

 _Gorion's explanation on the definition of suspects was then followed by the process in which one determines or eliminates them. Dorean listened with rapt attention while asking the occasional question._

 _Before he realized it, by the time he had finished his impromptu lesson, the sun had completed its descent into the ocean, and night had fallen upon them._

 _Smiling to himself at the dwarf's unexpected attentiveness, Gorion handed the book back to him. Dorean quietly turned it over in his hands, looked at the cover, then lifted his gaze to Gorion's face._

 _"You ever done stuff like that? Investigated killings and puttin' together suspects."_

 _Gorion's smile faded very slightly. There was silence for a brief moment. "Yes, I have."_

 _"Could you tell me about them?" the dwarf asked, gray eyes turning round with abject curiosity._

 _Gorion paused. "I used to be a Harper."_

 _Dorean tilted his head to the side. "What's that?"_

 _Gorion hesitated a moment, then gave a gentle smile. He began to tell Dorean about the organization, pausing only briefly to light the candles with a wave of his hand. The dwarf listened intently, eyes focused on the wizard's face and gesticulating hands, the crime novel now lying forgotten on the bed beside him._

 **..**

* * *

She was back at the campsite near the road. The bandits stood around her, their laughs echoing into the night air.

The laughter stopped. The bandits all turned to look at Dorean, standing stock-still next to the fire, arms at his sides.

The dwarf's gray eyes turned to gold, and the bandits reeled back, screaming in terror as their bodies wasted away into dust. Only Imoen and Dorean remained.

He slowly lifted his head to gaze upon her. The twin pools of gold held her in place.

Her father's voice, strained and desperate, echoed in her head.

"You don't know what he is..."

The glow in his eyes intensified, and the world around her was enveloped in bright, blinding gold.

..

* * *

Imoen awoke with a gasp, then fell back onto her pillow.

Several minutes went by as Imoen slowly steadied her breathing, blinking and staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling. She paused, then turned her gaze onto the bed across the room from hers.

Dorean was still sitting up against the headboard of his bed. His eyes were closed, and his head was tilted back and leaning slightly to one side, long hair flowing onto and over the cloak draped on the headboard.

 _He tried to stay awake through the night_.

Imoen laid still for a while, watching Dorean's beard flutter from his soft snores.

Her gaze went to the parchment on his lap, and she lifted her head, blinking at it.

Curiosity taking hold of her, Imoen eased herself out of bed and walked over to Dorean. She hesitated, looking at his sleeping face, then carefully eased one side of the page out from under his right hand. Walking slowly over to the window, she held it up to the morning light.

His hand-writing was as neat and tidy as always.

 _Ulraunt - Is aware of and resents my thieving activities. Is aware of my training and tutelage. Knows that I was being prepared for something dangerous. Considers me to be a 'danger' and a 'great risk.' Has access to most areas in Candlekeep._

 _Tethtoril - Always treated me well. Perhaps too well? Has access to most areas in Candlekeep. Was with Father the morning of the day._

 _Firebead Elvenhair - A multiple-time victim of my thieving activities. Was in Candlekeep on the afternoon of the day._

 _Hull + Fuller - Multiple-time victims of my cheating at games of cards and dice._

 _Reevor - Has access to all the storehouses, including the one where Shank Gwist was waiting for me._

 _Parda - Was outside and close to the storehouse where Shank Gwist was waiting for me._

 _Obe, Arkanis, Canderous, Osprey, Mordaine and Deder - The axe-strike from Arkanis may have been intended to be fatal._

Imoen's gaze lingered on the next name for a very long moment before she continued reading.

 _Winthrop - Knows Father better than perhaps anyone else in Candlekeep. Travelled with Father, and likely to have seen his skills, capabilities, preferred tactics and habits. Knowledge and acquaintance of me is second only to that of Father and Imoen. Sent me to serve Shank Gwist and Carbos. Was at the gate when Father and I left Candlekeep._

There were more names, but Imoen stopped reading. She lifted her gaze from the parchment for a moment, looking out the window impassively at the guards patrolling the Friendly Arm's walls, then looked back down.

Her eyes were drawn to the last name at the bottom of the parchment; it was the only one that had been cancelled. Numerous lines had been drawn across it, so many that it was impossible to make out the word underneath. The area of paper around it was shredded, as though Dorean had used unnecessary force.

After a long moment, Imoen slowly turned around and walked back to Dorean's bed.

She tilted her head, gazing quietly at the dwarf's face, before placing the parchment back onto his lap and gently shaking his shoulder.

Dorean awoke with a jolt, raising the quill pen in his left hand over his head as though to strike. He blinked as his eyes focused on her, then lowered the pen. Two seconds later, he froze, glancing at the list lying open on his lap. Turning away from Imoen, he lowered his head and closed his eyes tight.

"Mornin', little brother," Imoen greeted warmly, reaching over and tousling his hair. Dorean's eyes snapped open and he looked up at her in surprise. "Y'know you're supposed to lie onna beds, not sit up like that?" The pink girl grinned and lifted an admonishing finger, wagging it at him. "Don't try an' stay up late again, okay?"

His jaw quivering behind his beard, Dorean opened his mouth to speak when a knock sounded at the door.

"Urm, g-good morning?"

"Get behind the bed," Dorean hissed at Imoen, moving out of his own bed and positioning himself behind the door. Imoen stayed where she was, watching her roommate draw a knife from beneath his shirt.

"It's K-Khalid. We m-m-met last night? In the c-common room?" There was a pause. "J-Jaheira has reserved a t-table for us. We'd like you to j-join us. For breakfast." They heard the shuffling of feet outside.

Dorean and Imoen exchanged glances for a moment before Imoen looked to the door. "We would love to. Could you wait for us to get ready? We just need a few minutes?"

"N-n-no problem. I can wait," came the reply.

"Make it snappy," said another voice from outside.

Dorean and Imoen looked at each other again. _Montaron?_ Imoen mouthed.

Dorean frowned, then put away his knife and nodded to her. They began moving about the room, getting dressed and gathering their belongings.

Dorean hesitated for a few seconds before rolling up the list and stowing it in his pack.

As he secured the clasp of the halfling cloak, the dwarf blinked and then turned towards the window.

A light-blue bird had alighted on the window sill and was now watching them through the vertical iron bars.

"What's the matter?" asked Imoen, glancing at the still dwarf.

"...nothing. It's nothing," replied Dorean. He returned to his packing while shooting a few more glances at the animal.

Eventually, hoisting their packs onto their shoulders, Dorean and Imoen walked over to the door. After pushing the bedside table away from the door, Imoen turned the knob while Dorean stood to the side with one hand around the knife hidden beneath his shirt.

They caught Khalid standing in the middle of the wide corridor, nervously wringing his hands together, before he quickly straightened and brought them to his sides. Montaron was casually leaning against the wall next to the door.

"G-g-good morning," said the half-elf, giving them an awkward, lopsided smile. "I am s-sorry for coming at such an e-early hour, b-but my wife felt we should talk as soon as p-possible."

"S'fine," said Imoen good-naturedly, returning his smile with one of her own. She looked at the halfling. "Morning, Monty! Got a good night's rest?"

"Don't call me 'Monty'."

"Urm, y-y-yes, well..." Khalid trailed off, biting his bottom lip and looking down at Imoen and Dorean.

"Shall we?" Imoen finished for him. Khalid nodded, smiling at her gratefully, then turned and led them down the corridor. Dorean and Imoen followed him.

Montaron waited a few seconds, then eased himself off the wall and strolled after them.

..

* * *

The common room was now considerably busy compared to the night before. Every table was occupied and barmaids, most of them gnomish, scuttled to and fro among the tables with trays in hand. The hubbub was loud enough to drown out most of the music from the three gnomish musicians at the eastern wall.

Jaheira awaited them in the lounge area at the north-west corner, seated at a table upon which two drinks had been placed, one in her hand and the other presumably for Khalid. She looked up at their approach, but said nothing.

Khalid seated himself next to her while Dorean and Imoen sat opposite from the couple, Dorean deliberately selecting the seat across from Khalid. Montaron, bringing up the rear, hopped up onto the seat at the end of the table, placing Imoen to his left and Jaheira to his right.

Growing uncomfortable beneath Jaheira's thin-lipped gaze, Imoen looked anywhere but at her. "Hey, where's Xzar?" she asked, turning to Montaron.

"Busy," replied the halfling, reaching over and opening the food-bag beside Imoen's chair. She blinked at him but did not protest.

"Well, don't we have quite a gathering 'ere!" said a voice at Imoen's elbow, causing her to spin around in her seat. The same barmaid who had brought Dorean's message to Khalid and Jaheira beamed innocently up at them.

She happily took Imoen's order of eggs, ham and bread along with Dorean's order of a single apple and pear. The gnome then turned to Montaron, opened her mouth to speak, stopped and tilted her head quizzically at the halfling biting into the salted pork he had taken from the food-bag. After a moment, she shrugged good-naturedly, gave Imoen a radiant smile, then hurried off to relay their orders.

 _Someone really enjoys their job_ , thought Dorean, watching the little woman practically skipping away from them towards the kitchens. He looked back, momentarily caught Jaheira's eye, and quickly looked away as her impassive gaze locked onto his face. Looking uncertainly at his wife, Khalid bit his bottom lip again.

Imoen, after glancing at Dorean and seeing that he was keeping his head down to avoid Jaheira's gaze, reached over and patted him reassuringly on the back.

"Soo, did ya two have a good night's sleep?" she asked, attempting a smile. Jaheira neither answered nor looked away from Dorean. Khalid gave them an apologetic look as Imoen awkwardly drummed her fingers on the table.

Dorean and Imoen's drinks were served a few silent minutes later. As Imoen reached for her mug, Montaron leaned over, pushed her hand away and promptly sprinkled what looked like a fine white powder into it. He gestured roughly to Dorean, who hesitated before sliding his own mug over to him, and repeated the process.

"Monty, what are you doing?" Imoen asked innocently.

"Checkin' fer poison," he replied. "An' stop callin' me 'Monty'." He looked at both Dorean and Imoen's drinks for a moment before grunting and leaning back in his seat.

Jaheira's expression instantly went from unreadable to a cold, hard glare. "There is an accusation in this, isn't there?"

"Innkeeper's yer friend," the halfling replied calmly, picking up his half-eaten salted pork.

To Dorean and Imoen's surprise, Khalid rose up from his seat with fists clenched. Jaheira's arm shot up and grasped him firmly by the forearm. Their eyes met, and she shook her head. Khalid's lower jaw trembled, and he blinked rapidly before slowly sitting back down, eyes closed and breathing slowly and steadily.

After giving Montaron another cold glare, Jaheira turned to face Imoen, apparently deciding to ignore the unpleasant halfling.

"We should introduce themselves. I am Jaheira and this is my husband Khalid." She paused, placing her hands on the table and clasping them together. "And you are?"

Imoen blinked, then straightened in her seat. "Oh, I'm Imoen. And this is Dor..." she hesitated, looking down at her roommate.

Dorean paused, then nodded quietly to her.

"...Dorean. My little brother." Imoen paused. "Pleased to meet you," she added, mimicking Jaheira's action in clasping her hands together on the table and causing the woman to frown at her. Montaron, who had taken a mug from Imoen's food-bag, lifted it in front of his mouth to hide his grin.

"B-b-brother?" said Khalid, eyes and head moving from Imoen to Dorean and back again. "Urm, p-pardon me a-asking, b-but..."

"Oh, we grew up together," replied Imoen in a brighter tone, visibly relaxing now that the ice and awkwardness seemed to be breaking.

"We were not informed that we would be meeting a girl," said Jaheira, her eyes narrowing to match the thinness of her closed lips. "You say he is your brother? Who are you, exactly?"

From the corner of his eye, Dorean noticed Montaron slowly lowering his mug.

"I am Imoen," said Imoen, as though it was explanation enough. She cringed slightly at Jaheira's deepened frown. "Sorry, sorry." She grinned sheepishly at Khalid, who could not help but smile back. "I am the innkeeper's daughter."

"Which inn?" said Jaheira.

"The one at Candlekeep."

"C-Candlekeep?" said Khalid.

"Yeah," said Imoen. She blinked as Jaheira and Khalid looked at each other, then glanced at Dorean. The dwarf did not meet her gaze; he was watching the half-elves closely. Imoen then looked at Montaron; the halfling had produced a teabag from his pocket and was now preparing for himself a lukewarm tea using water from his water-skin.

"So you are both from Candlekeep," said Jaheira. Imoen quickly looked back to her, but Jaheira said nothing else; she stared silently at the pink-clad girl with narrowed eyes, as though analyzing every detail of her face, then did the same to Dorean, who this time maintained eye contact, his expression impassive. Khalid looked nervously at his wife again before turning to the dwarf.

"Something about you is f-familiar, child. Your manner reminds me somewhat of..." he hesitated, glancing at Jaheira. "Of Gorion."

"It is almost a slight on him," Jaheira said coldly. "But I see it too."

"J-Jaheira," said Khalid softly, looking at her nervously.

Dorean stared at her unblinkingly, his face blank.

 _In one leap, he cleared the table and buried his knife in the side of her neck..._

"So you are his son," said Jaheira, her greenish-blue eyes gazing into Dorean's gray. To her left, Montaron slowly swirled his mug, paused to scrutinize the tea, then swirled the mug again.

"W-w-what about you, Imoen?" said Khalid hurriedly, wringing his hands against his chest.

"Hmm?" said Imoen distractedly, watching Dorean and Jaheira's staring contest.

"Y-you said there is an inn at Candlekeep. W-we d-didn't know that."

"Oh, err, there wasn't one until a little bit after I arrived there with...with my dad, actually. About ten years ago." She paused as Jaheira finally looked away from Dorean to her. "Mister G...urm, that's Gorion...he helped us build and pay for it."

Jaheira frowned. "Who is your father?"

At Imoen's hesitation, Dorean's eyes narrowed as he glanced sideways at her. "Oh, he's...he's just the innkeeper there. Though he was an adventurer once. I think. His name's Winthrop."

Jaheira's face dropped, and she straightened so suddenly that Imoen flinched backwards. The two half-elves turned to one another, exchanging wide-eyed looks.

Dorean's eyes narrowed further as he scrutinized them, but then his brow furrowed upon noticing Montaron sipping his tea.

 _He's being calm. Far too calm._

The dwarf looked over his shoulder, eyes sweeping the common room for Xzar despite knowing the futility of it.

"D-do you know him?" said Imoen, her voice small and mouse-like.

After a long moment, Khalid and Jaheira relaxed and turned back to Imoen, Khalid glancing at his wife before speaking.

"We m-met him many years ago, when he was...w-working with Gorion." He trailed off upon uttering Gorion's name.

Dorean slowly lowered his gaze to the table, head bowed in thought. An uncomfortable silence fell on the table once again, and there was little sound save Montaron sipping his tea.

"Hurry up an' tell 'em 'bout why yer here," he said abruptly.

Khalid and Jaheira both looked at him, then Jaheira looked back to Dorean and Imoen, closed her eyes, breathed deeply, then opened them.

"In case Gorion didn't tell you, we are members of the Harpers. Do you know what that is?"

"Err, yeah," said Imoen, moving her hand to her chin. "They are people who do good things and save art and music and history and stuff. Something like that, right?"

Jaheira paused. "Something like that, yes," she said as Khalid bit his bottom lip again, this time not from nervousness. "As for why we are here," she glared at Montaron. "We were on our way to Nashkel on a mission when we received a letter. It said that Gorion would be meeting us here at the Friendly Arm. And that he would be bringing his son with him." She clasped her hands on the table again, focusing her gaze on Dorean. "It seems that you are that 'son'. It can sometimes be difficult to tell with dwarves, but Imoen clearly isn't male. Also," her voice turned cold. "You referred to him as 'father' when you accused us of being involved in his death."

Dorean kept his head down, not meeting her eyes. "I am sorry about that," he said quietly. "I was upset."

After a moment of silence, Jaheira folded her arms across her chest. "How did you know him?" she asked, her voice lowering to match his.

"I was an orphan when he found me," Dorean said softly, not lifting his gaze from the table. "He took me in and raised me. I've been living in Candlekeep for the past twenty years."

Jaheira lowered her head for a long moment before looking back to the dwarf. "And before that? Where did he find you?"

Dorean paused, then lifted his head to meet her gaze. "I don't remember. I was very young."

"How old are you?"

"Thirty-nine."

"You said you are an orphan. Who are your parents?"

"I..." Dorean trailed off, and Imoen looked at him worriedly. Montaron paused in mid-sip, black eyes focusing on the dwarf. "I don't remember. Like I said, I was very young."

"Nineteen is young?" said Jaheira.

"For a dwarf, it is," said Imoen. She hesitated, then ruffled Dorean's hair. "That means I'm older. I'm twenty, by the way. What's your age?" She smiled at Jaheira's frown.

Silence fell upon them again before Khalid placed a hand on Jaheira's shoulder, nodded to her, then turned to Dorean and Imoen.

"I know this will be hard f-for you," he said gently, facing Dorean. "But we want to know what h-happened." He paused. "Please tell us."

Dorean looked at the Calishite, then at Jaheira and Montaron, who merely raised an eyebrow at him before refilling his mug. He then looked at Imoen. The girl paused, then reached over and gently patted his shoulder. The dwarf faced Khalid and breathed deeply, exhaling through his nose.

"Okay."

He told them of the events of that fateful day; from Gorion informing him of his intention to leave Candlekeep, to Shank Gwist's failed attempt on his life followed by his questioning of the man and learning of the bounty on his head before the man bled to death, to leaving Candlekeep with Gorion in the dead of night with Winthrop seeing them off with a bag of food.

He left out many details; of Winthrop refusing to let Imoen accompany them, of his questioning of Shank involving torture, and of Gorion putting Imoen to sleep after she insisted on going with them.

He hesitated then, when the gnomish barmaid returned with their food, apologizing for the lateness of the order since the inn is busier than usual today, and resumed his story when she scuttled away from Jaheira's impatient scowl.

After another deep breath, Dorean went on, describing the events after crossing the causeway from Candlekeep. At that point, Jaheira nodded silently to Khalid, who then took out a notebook, feather pen and ink bottle. Imoen and Dorean exchanged looks before the latter resumed his tale.  
He described the ambush in the clearing in great detail. It was very easy, since he could play it back entirely in his mind; the attackers coming out of the north-east end, their leader demanding that Gorion hand over his ward, and the attack commencing when the old wizard refused.

Khalid wrote steadily with his head down and Dorean had to resist the urge to glance at the notebook; Jaheira was watching him closely.

When he got to Gorion being cut down, he stopped and pretended to close his eyes, watching the reactions of the two Harpers.

Khalid had looked away with his eyes closed, while Jaheira remained still, though there was a barely perceptible tremble in her jaw.

Dorean took a moment to peek at Montaron, whose presence Khalid and Jaheira seemed to have momentarily forgotten. His face betrayed nothing, showing no emotion, but his black eyes were focused on Khalid's notebook. The dwarf was reminded of Montaron drugging him unconscious to search his belongings.

 _There will surely be trouble if he tries that tactic on them._

Dorean hesitated before continuing his account of the ambush, Imoen running into him afterwards, and returning to the clearing the next morning.

Imoen took over from there, telling the Harper duo of meeting Xzar and Montaron, their help in burying Gorion's body, and then agreeing to travel with them to Nashkel. She left out being grabbed around the throat and Dorean being threatened by Montaron.

"And then, we...came here." She paused. "That's it, really."

Dorean glanced at Imoen, then caught Montaron's eye.

 _She left out the bandit attack._

There was a long moment of silence. Jaheira slowly leaned back in her seat, head lowered and fingers clasped with her elbows on the table. After a moment, she turned her gaze onto Dorean.

"Do you know who is after you, or why?"

He hesitated. "No. I mean, I know Gwist was just after the bounty, but I don't know why there would be one on me in the first place. He didn't either."

Jaheira stared at Dorean for a long time without blinking, then looked at Khalid and nodded. Her husband returned the nod nervously, then removed a large parchment from his pack and spread it on the centre of the table.

Moving aside their plates and drinks, Dorean and Imoen leaned towards each other to read it.

Dorean's own face stared back at them. Above it were words, in large, fat letters.

 _By decree of the Flaming Fist and the Dukes of Baldur's Gate._

Dorean paused, then lowered his gaze to the words below the composite sketch.

 _The dwarf known as DOREAN OF CANDLEKEEP is WANTED, DEAD OR ALIVE, for the crimes of Thievery and Murder._

 _It is Preferred that he be brought in ALIVE, as he is also wanted for questioning in regard to the disappearance of Sir Gunnhallur Silvershield of Baldur's Gate._

 _Whoever delivers this man ALIVE will receive a Reward of 1000 gold. If delivered DEAD, a Reward of 500 gold._

 _Claim of the bounty is to be conducted at the Flaming Fist headquarters in the city of Baldur's Gate._

There was a sharp intake of breath from Imoen. Dorean's eye-lids lowered, and he went very still, listening to the breathing of the others at the table. Then, moving only his eyes, he glanced at Montaron.

The halfling was ignoring them all, leaning back in his seat with his hands on his lap and his head tilted up to the ceiling in an almost casual manner.

Faces appeared in Dorean's mind as he returned his gaze to the bounty notice; of the guards at the gate, the people in the common room who had looked his way after Jaheira attacked him, the ones whom he had passed in the corridors and staircases to and from his room, the barmaids, Bentley and finally Tarnesh.

He heard Jaheira's voice, blinked and looked up. "Sorry?"

"The crimes. Are they true?"

Dorean did not glance at Imoen, but he nonetheless felt her stillness; her eyes were fixed on the bounty notice, and her jaw had gone slack. Montaron leaned forward, snatched it up from underneath her nose, and flicked it at Khalid who caught it reflexively.

"Put it away, idiot, before someone 'ere sees it."

As Khalid meekly returned the parchment to his pack, Jaheira took a second to glare at the halfling before returning her gaze to Dorean. The dwarf paused for a long moment before breathing deeply.

"One third of it is. I am a thief. Candlekeep's visitors and guests are usually quite wealthy; they wouldn't have been able to afford the entry fee otherwise. I have stolen from many of them, over the years." He paused, looking straight into Khalid's eyes first, then Jaheira's. "But I am no murderer."

For a moment that lasted several seconds and also an eternity, Jaheira's eyes bored into his.

"And Gunnhallur Silvershield's disappearance?" she asked, her voice calm, steady and cold.

"I was still living there at the time," Dorean answered, matching her tone. "I don't know what happened to him."

There was a moment of silence.

"The p-p-person whom you q-questioned in the storehouse, S-Shank Gwist," said Khalid, looking at his notes. "You said he told you that a f-f-foreign woman set up the bounty."

"Yes," replied Dorean. "I suspect she is one of the two women who attacked us."

"Are you sure?" asked Jaheira, narrowing her eyes at the dwarf. He returned her gaze steadily.

"I am."

"Where did you get this?" said Imoen softly. They all looked at her; until now, she had been silent from the moment she saw the notice.

Jaheira paused, then looked at Montaron who returned her cold, hard gaze with a bored, dismissive look, before answering Imoen.

"What you saw was a copy. We saw the original after it was taken from a man who attempted to break into your room last night."

Dorean's eyes narrowed while Imoen's widened.

"He was a young human dressed in black-green robes," Jaheira added.

"Tarnesh?" Imoen exclaimed, straightening in her seat. Khalid blinked.

"Y-you k-knew him?"

"He was the previous occupant of the room we were staying in," said Dorean. "He gave it to us after the innkeeper told us the inn was full." He paused for a moment. "Who took the notice from him?" he asked, despite feeling he already knew the answer.

Khalid's mouth opened, then closed, and he looked to his wife.

"I believe your friend here could answer that," said Jaheira, jerking her head at Montaron. "He was there."

"Monty?" said Imoen.

"Don't call me that."

"What were you doing outside our room?"

"Standin' watch. Good thing too, considerin'. Young'un tried to get in and got his neck broken. Yer welcome. An' block off the window next time," he added to Dorean. "It don't matter how high up ye are."

"His partner - Xzar, was it? - killed this Tarnesh before he could enter the room. We were on watch too," said Jaheira at Dorean's questioning furrowed brow.

"Why?" he asked, before he could stop himself.

Jaheira did not answer him. Instead, silence again fell between them, carrying over to Khalid and Imoen as they noticed it. The Tethyrian closed her eyes, then slowly opened them.

"We will be making our own inquiries into this," she said, her voice calm and authoritative. "And shall see if what you told us is accurate." A steely glint appeared in her eyes, and her voice turned cold and hard. "And we _will_ learn the truth behind what happened to Gorion."

She paused for a long moment, staring at the dwarf.

"But first, we will go to Nashkel and accomplish our mission." She looked away from Dorean, facing Imoen. "You may come with us, if you wish."

"We can protect you," said Khalid hurriedly, looking at Dorean. "There may be others who would try to collect on the b-b-bounty."

Dorean turned to Imoen and froze slightly at her expression; it was filled with concern and worry, all directed at him. She reached over and placed her hand over his, giving it a tight squeeze.

The dwarf watched her for a moment, his expression softened, before turning back to the Harpers.

"Your company would be welcome."

There was a moment's pause, then Jaheira slowly nodded.

Dorean and Imoen finished their breakfast promptly, then rose with Khalid and Jaheira from the table and gathered their belongings.

After saying goodbye to Bentley Mirrorshade (Imoen gave the innkeeper a hug and kiss on the forehead, earning stares from the crowd), they headed for the exit.

Dorean reached for the hood of his cloak, but stopped when Montaron tapped him lightly on the back.

"Not now. Wait 'til we're outside."

..

* * *

After Dorean, Imoen and Montaron retrieved their weapons from the gate-house, they joined Khalid and Jaheira at the gates and set out across the large, wide drawbridge.

Xzar was waiting for them at the end. He smiled cheerily, waved upon seeing Imoen, and was nearly tackled when the pink girl rushed up and took hold of his wrist.

"What happened to your hand?"

Xzar hesitated, watching her examine his wound. "Animal bite. I was...trying to catch a rabbit."

"A rabbit?" said Imoen, looking up at him.

"In the dark," he said quickly. "With my bare hands. And my teeth." He paused. "It got away." He paused again. "I like rabbits."

"Oh," said Imoen. She turned to look at Montaron, who returned her gaze with an irritable glower, before looking back to Xzar. "Will you be alright?"

He tilted his head at her. "No signs or symptoms of infection, as sure as Glittergold. Just need to go easy on it for a few days."

Imoen paused, then sighed in relief. Xzar's expression became one of mild confusion when he was promptly presented with wrappings of strawberry-flavoured cornbread.

"You missed breakfast."

"No I didn't."

"What did you eat, then?"

"A dead body."

Imoen stared, then blinked. He returned the stare and blink.

"Was that a joke?"

"...no?"

"Oh."

They stood in front of each other with the cornbread between them, exchanging stares and blinks. The rest all watched from a distance, except Montaron.

"Well, you should still take these. For lunch," said Imoen, pushing the cornbread towards him.

"Oh. Yes, I should. For lunch," he said, reaching up and taking them.

"What about me?" said Montaron. Imoen blinked before turning around to smile at him.

"Nothin' fer you, Monty, you've already taken half my food." She stuck her tongue out at him, earning a glower from the halfling.

"I said don't call-" he ended his sentence in a frustrated growl, then walked past all of them down the road without looking back.

Dorean looked up at Khalid and Jaheira's questioning stares, gave a shrug, adjusted his crossbow on his back and followed Montaron, taking Imoen's hand as he passed her and pulling her along to walk beside him. The Harpers followed behind them, glancing at Xzar as they went past.

The wizard stood still for a moment, staring off at nothing, before promptly turning on his heel and following the group. He unwrapped and bit into one of the square-shaped breads as he walked, seemingly unaware of the glances being thrown his way by the Harper duo several paces in front of him.

..

* * *

"Here," said Tethtoril, leaning forward and placing the basket on the floor in front of him. Winthrop paused, glancing at the First Reader, before using his feet to pull the basket towards himself and then picking it up with his hands, the chains at his wrists clinking and emitting a slight, bluish glow at his movements. He paused again after lifting the cover and seeing the contents.

"I thought you would like something better to eat," Tethtoril said quietly. "You've been in here two nights now."

Winthrop said nothing, dropping the cover back onto the top of the basket.

"Ulraunt's awake now," said Tethtoril, sitting down cross-legged on the floor of the cell. "He's...upset, about his eye. Wanted to speak to you in person. I convinced him to let me do it instead." He waited a few moments, but there was no sound from the other man.

"Winthrop, I trust you. I know you didn't have anything to do with Gwist's death. Whoever killed him clearly did so with a knife. From the investigation and review of events, it seems likely it was our recently-departed dwarf."

Winthrop looked up at him briefly, his expression unreadable, before lowering his head.  
"I'm sure he had a good reason," said Tethtoril. "Self-defense, most likely. It would explain why Gorion left in such a hurry." He sighed. "It seems whatever he was preparing the child for is finally coming for him." He looked away to the side. "I will miss them both."

Pausing to rub his forearms, the First Reader resumed speaking.

"We are still looking for Gwist's cousin. Carbos, I believe that is his name." Tethtoril paused, watching Winthrop's face. "The two nobles have been questioned, and I decided they were innocent."

There was a long moment of silence.

"Aren't you going to ask me anything?" Tethtoril said softly. No answer came.

"Winthrop...I am sorry, but you were out of control. If I had not put you down, you might have killed someone, or been killed yourself. It was Imoen's choice to-"

"Get out."

Tethtoril hesitated, then sighed softly, his shoulders slumping, before standing up.

He paused after closing the door to the cell, then reached into his robes.

"This arrived in the mail last night," he said quietly.

The envelope floated through the air across the cell, then dropped lightly next to the basket at Winthrop's feet.

"I think it is from her," said Tethtoril, lowering his voice further. He turned and left, his footsteps echoing softly off the stone floor.

Several minutes passed in silence.

Then, using his foot, Winthrop slid the envelope closer to himself, picked it up and opened it.

 _Contact made with principle. Now providing escort. Will provide protection and overwatch for principle with or without escort._

 _M._

Winthrop stayed still for a long time, staring at the letter. After briefly scanning his surroundings, he folded the letter in half and promptly tore in in halves, then quarters, then eighths. Crumbling them in his hands, he then shoved the pieces of paper in his mouth and chewed steadily.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Glancing down at the dwarf next to her and holding her hand, Imoen then looked ahead where Xzar was now walking next to Montaron. The girl tilted her head at the realization that she had not seen them walk side-by-side until now.

Imoen glanced over her shoulder. Both Khalid and Jaheira appeared to be lost in thought, though Jaheira shot an occasional glance at the four people in front of her.

There was no sound from any of them aside from their boots (and Xzar's shoes) upon the stone path and the occasional clank of Khalid's armour.

The pink girl drew a deep breath and sighed audibly. None of them had spoken in the hour since they left the Friendly Arm, and the silence was beginning to weigh on her.

She pursed her lips, then worked her hand free from Dorean's, briefly patted him on the head, and fell back to walk beside Jaheira.

"Where are you from?" she asked casually.

Being short for a human, Jaheira's frown seemed more imposing now for Imoen than it was when they were earlier seated in the Friendly Arm common room. _I can only imagine what it must be like for Dorean._

Maintaining eye-contact regardless, Imoen cocked her head, displaying the aura of inquisitive innocence that has worked numerous times on scholars, monks, priests, watchers and visitors to Candlekeep.

After a moment, Jaheira breathed deeply, her chest rising and falling.

"Assuming that you are referring to my country of origin, I am from the nation of Tethyr."

Imoen's jade-green eyes widened. "Oooh, I've read a lot about Tethyr. Urm," she paused nervously. "Is the war there still going on?"

Jaheira stopped frowning, her expression turning pensive. "I would not know," she said flatly.

"Oh," said Imoen. She scratched her arm. "I'm sorry."

"Your apology is not needed." With that, Jaheira looked back to the road, her eyes narrowing at the back of Dorean's head; the dwarf was facing ahead and not looking back at them, but it was clear that he was listening. Khalid looked at Imoen and gave her a slightly sheepish smile. She returned it with one of her own before looking back up to Jaheira.

"So where did ya grow up? In the forest? I'm hoping it's the forest," Imoen added when Jaheira frowned at her again. "I always wanted to meet someone from there. I read that it's the largest forest in Faerun and it's full of monsters and that the elves there are the only ones who can live safely in it and that they even live peacefully with some'a the monsters and they live in this big city high up inna trees and it's all built around the biggest, most humungous tree called the Tree of Life." Imoen finally took a breath. "I wanna go there and see it one day."

Imoen blinked, then looked around. Jaheira stared at her. So did everyone else.

Montaron shared a look with Dorean, then silently turned back to the road. The others slowly followed suit.

"...yes," said Jaheira after a moment's thought. "I am from the Wealdath. But I was not raised there."

"Where did you grow up, then?"

Jaheira paused. Khalid met Imoen's eye and shook his head.

"If ya don't wanna talk about it, it's okay," she quickly added.

"I do not," said Jaheira. "Thank you."

Silence attempted to descend upon them again, but Imoen gave a slight frown of determination and inwardly fought it off. She glanced at Jaheira's quarterstaff.

"Are you a druid?" she asked hopefully. "I saw your staff," she added at the half-elf woman's furrowed brow. "I read that druids don't wear or even carry metal."

"Not all of us shun it," Jaheira replied. "Though there are indeed many who disapprove of its use."

Imoen's eyes widened alarmingly. "So you _are_ a druid?" she exclaimed, lifting her head to gaze upon Jaheira with sparkling jade eyes.

Dorean smiled. As Imoen began peppering Jaheira with questions about druids, he slowed his pace to gradually fall back next to Khalid.

"They seem to be getting along," he said quietly.

Khalid blinked, then looked away from Imoen and Jaheira to Dorean.

"Y-yes. They seem to be."

Dorean paused. "Where are you from, Khalid?" he asked softly. "If you don't mind me asking."

"Oh, I d-do not mind. Not at all." Khalid paused. "I am from C-Calimshan."

"Hmm. Calimport?"

"Y-y-yes. C-Calimport."

 _He's getting more nervous._ "I have never been there. I heard that it is beautiful," said Dorean, deliberately adding a wistful tone to his voice. "Largest city in all of Faerun. 'The City of Glory,' people call it," He smiled. "Calimport and Suldanessallar. You and Jaheira come from interesting places."

Khalid gave a nervous laugh. Dorean glanced at him, his eyes moving over the man's armour, shield, helmet and sword.

"Are you a soldier, Khalid?" he asked, keeping his voice low and soft.

"Whuh? Oh, yes, I-I mean, no. I mean...I was one, but not anymore. I am a H-Harper now."

Dorean paused, looking at Khalid's face, then averted his gaze. "My father told me he was a Harper," he said slowly, dropping his voice even lower so that only Khalid could hear him. "But he never spoke of either of you until the day we left."

There was a long silence between them, slightly punctured by the two women conversing nearby.

"I want to apologize again," said Dorean, looking up at Khalid. "For what I said last night. It was wrong of me."

Khalid hesitated, then smiled gently and patted Dorean lightly on the shoulder. "It is alright. P-please do not trouble yourself with it."

Dorean paused deliberately and then slowly nodded. "Thank you...for your kindness. For taking me and Imoen with you. It means a lot. To both of us."

Khalid blushed. "It's no p-problem. We are h-happy to help." He looked away nervously for a moment before meeting Dorean's gaze again. "Gorion was a good friend," he said quietly, lowering his voice to a whisper. "And we would never l-leave you or Imoen to f-fend for yourselves. It's not what h-he would have wanted."

Dorean paused, looking up at the Calishite's face.

 _If he is not being sincere, then he is a very good actor._

His brow then furrowed slightly at another thought. _Ourselves?_ Without moving his head, the dwarf glanced at the two figures ahead of them.

Xzar and Montaron were now very close to each other. Straining his ears, Dorean barely heard them speaking, their voices too low and hushed for them to be heard by anyone other than each other.

Montaron's head began to turn in his direction, and the dwarf quickly moved his eyes back to Khalid.

The half-elf was now also glancing at the halfling and wizard. Montaron's head turned, fixing one black eye on Khalid's face, before returning to face the road.

"If you d-don't mind me asking, D-D-Dorean...are you n-nervous, to be around them?" Khalid asked quietly.

The next few seconds slowed to a crawl as Dorean considered his answer.

 _Tell him what he wants to hear._

"I...I must admit, they can be...unsettling." He raised his voice slightly. "But they have done us no harm. In fact, they have been nothing but helpful since we met them." He paused, glancing at Jaheira who was now answering Imoen's fifteenth question on druids. "But all the same, I am glad that you and Jaheira are with us now."

Khalid nodded understandingly.

"No, we do _not_ have what you call naked dancing rituals," said Jaheira's increasingly loud and exasperated voice from beside them. "Nor do we court with animals!"

Dorean gave Khalid a bemused smile and received a half-embarrassed, half-amused one in return.

 _At least they're better conversationalists than Montaron._

..

* * *

A few hours later, Montaron silently walked off the path toward a nearby grove of trees, looked them up and down, went over to Imoen, removed six ham-and-egg sandwiches from the food-bag, then returned to the grove and sat down in the shade.

Dorean and Imoen looked at each other, then at Xzar. The wizard gave a dramatic sigh, inflating and deflating his thin chest, and shook his head in the direction of his partner before going over and sitting cross-legged a few paces to Montaron's left.

"Guess it's time for lunch," said Imoen. She reached into the open food-bag and held out two apples to Dorean. Taking only one, the dwarf shrugged at Khalid and Jaheira before going with Imoen over to the grove and sitting down next to her a half-dozen paces away from Montaron.

The half-elves joined them a minute later, sitting on a log and placing Dorean and Imoen between themselves and the halfling. Neither of them ate, instead taking draughts from their water-skins.

"Xzar?" said Imoen.

The wizard straightened his back and jerked his head up, seemingly startled.

"Did you eat all the cornbread that I gave you?"

Everyone (except Montaron) looked at him. Xzar shifted uncomfortably in his cross-legged position and lowered his head.

After a moment, Imoen smiled reassuringly at him and looked to Montaron.

"Hey, Monty, could you give Xzar a sandwich?"

No response came, although the halfling's chewing became louder.

Imoen huffed. "Fine. Be a greedy-guts then." She stood up and went over to Xzar, sitting between him and Montaron with her back to the latter.

Xzar was presented with a large butter-and-strawberry-jam toasted sandwich that Imoen had hidden in the bottom of the food-bag. He went still for a long moment, looking at it and then at Imoen, before slowly accepting it with both hands. Holding the double-square of bread close to his face, he stared at it for several seconds before very slowly taking a bite.

Everyone (including Montaron) watched him. Xzar finished chewing, swallowed, and was still for a few seconds. He then bit and chewed again with more enthusiasm, closing his eyes in an expression of childish joy.

Beaming, Imoen returned to her own meal, back straightened and chin lifted in a manner that could almost be described as haughty.

Khalid looked at Dorean, who met his gaze and gave him a shrug and brief tilt of his head. The dwarf then went over and sat down on the log next to Khalid.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed Jaheira staring intently at Imoen and the two individuals on either side of her.

"Imoen," she said abruptly, her voice calm yet commanding.

"Yes, Jaheira?"

The half-elf woman slowly placed her hands on her lap, her gaze focused on Imoen's face. The pink girl blinked, then stopped eating and straightened her back, giving Jaheira her full attention.

"What do you know of the organization known as the Zhentarim?"

To Dorean the very air in the grove had become still. He glanced over at Imoen's lunch-time companions.

Both men had stopped eating their sandwiches and were now returning Jaheira's intent stare.

Imoen looked between them, her head moving from left to right, then to Jaheira, her expression innocent and quizzical.

"Weelll..." she said, placing her half-eaten sandwich on her lap and absent-mindedly wiping her hands on her tunic. "I know that it was first founded a little over a hundred years ago by Manshoon, and it's main base is Zhentil Keep in Moonsea." She paused. "And that it's one of the largest and most powerful mercenary groups in the world. And that they also deal in information." She paused. "That's it, really."

Jaheira's cyan eyes focused on Imoen, glancing only briefly at the halfling and wizard sitting next to her.

"Am I correct, Imoen, in assuming that this knowledge was acquired solely from reading material?"

Imoen paused. "Most of it, yeah. Though I also know a bit from my lessons."

"Lessons with who?"

"With my tutors. Karan and Parda." Imoen paused."Gorion too," she added, lowering her voice and glancing at Dorean.

Jaheira narrowed her eyes, then nodded very slowly, her head moving up and down very slightly. "In that case, I will tell you what I know of the Black Network." She paused briefly, confirming that she had the girl's full attention, ignoring Dorean glancing at her from across Khalid.

"You are correct in that the Zhentarim is one of the largest and most powerful mercenary organizations in Faerun. It is also one of the most ambitious and wicked."

Jaheira's cheek twitched, and her hands curled into fists on her lap.

"Extortion. Blackmail. Racketeering. Kidnapping. Robbery. Narcotics. Assassination. Slavery."

"And embezzlement," said Xzar, smiling behind his sandwich. Jaheira threw a venomous glare at him before looking back to Imoen.

"Aside from the activities and methods of an organized crime syndicate, the Zhentarim is also responsible for numerous political upheavals and instigations of war."

Dorean's eyes flicked to Khalid's face, and he did not fail to notice the tightening of the man's jaw. Across from them, Xzar tilted his head very slightly, also glancing at the Calishite.

"The number of lives that it has taken and ruined since its creation now is beyond counting. And that number continues to climb every day." Jaheira paused briefly, lifting her chin and fixing Imoen with a cold, calm expression, her eyelids half-closed. "It is said that there is nothing a Zhent would not do for the sake of profit or power."

Imoen paused, then, moving only her eyes, glanced at Dorean. She quietly interlaced her fingers.

Next to her, Montaron resumed eating, taking a small bite and chewing very slowly.

His gaze focused not on Jaheira or Khalid, but on Dorean, his face relaxed and empty. The dwarf returned it, surprised at his own calm.

The silence was broken by low chuckling. All eyes (except Montaron's) turned to Xzar. The wizard had set his sandwich down on his lap; his lips were now slightly covered in jam, and his body rocked slightly back and forth as his quiet snickering grew louder.

"What, exactly, do you find amusing about what I said?" asked Jaheira, her expression hard and her tone glacial.

"Nothin', nothin'," replied Xzar. He continued to titter, lowering his head and placing three fingers to his lips. "Jus' thought it were a wee bit funny comin' from a Harper."

Khalid's jaw tightened even further, his mouth becoming a thin grimace. He leaned forward on the log, rising very slightly in his seat. His left hand gripped the handle of his sword.

"By the way, _madam_ ," added Xzar, lifting an inquiring finger in the air. "Are yous gettin' to a point wit' all this?"

Imoen blinked and tilted her head; for a very brief moment, _Jaheira'_ s face appeared to display _amusement_.

"That move you used to kill the would-be bounty collector, Tarnesh? We have seen it before." Jaheira paused, looking from Xzar to Montaron with narrowed eyes.

 _Is she_ _ **smiling**_ _?_ thought Imoen, tilting her head further.

"You are of the Zhentarim's Special Operations Group, am I correct?"

Silence fell on the grove again, even thicker than before.

Xzar's smile slowly fell, green eyes shining brightly at Jaheira as he lowered his head. Montaron maintained his cool, bored gaze on Dorean, cocking his head and casually taking another bite from his sandwich. Between them, Imoen looked down at Montaron and then up at Xzar, her expression still innocently inquisitive.

Jaheira leaned back in her seat, this time wearing an obvious smile that did not reach her eyes. "I will take it that I am. Do you know, Imoen, that SOG operatives are notoriously untrustworthy, even to each other? They have been known to betray their clients and partners for the slightest of reasons."

Dorean blinked, and the following few seconds slowed down to minutes for him as he continued to meet Montaron's gaze. He then spoke without breaking eye contact with the halfling.

"Please pardon my impertinence, Jaheira, but I have to concur with Xzar. What is the point that you are trying to make here?"

Jaheira's smile faded instantly, though she did not shift her gaze to Dorean. The dwarf barely resisted the urge to narrow his eyes; for one brief second, it seemed to him that Montaron was half-smiling.

"I find it rather confounding, Dorean, that you suspect us of being involved in your foster father's death, yet not of the people who were in the very same area at the time of its occurrence."

All eyes turned to the dwarf. Finally breaking his gaze from Montaron's, Dorean looked at each and every face, stopping on Imoen's.

"I have considered it," he said quietly, not looking away from her.

"Have you?" said Jaheira coldly, her voice tinged with sarcasm.

"I do not think that they are interested in collecting it. At least for now."

"Do you?" replied Jaheira, her tone turning derisive. "The bounty offers double if you are brought in alive. They did not want to risk anything in the Friendly Arm Inn. It would be easier and safer to bring you with them to Beregost, where they could then hand you over to the Flaming Fist garrison and collect the reward."

Montaron raised an eyebrow and cocked his head casually to the side as though to say, _Fair point_.

"Hmmm," said Xzar loudly, lifting his gaze skywards and rubbing his chin. "That IS a good idea!" He looked down at Imoen. "What do _you_ think? Shall we hand over your little brother like the madam Harper suggests?"

Imoen blinked six times in two seconds.

"If that was their plan, Jaheira, then why would they have allowed me and Imoen to meet you at the Friendly Arm?" said Dorean, keeping his voice calm and collected. "It would be easier if we were alone with them."

Jaheira looked at Dorean, opened her mouth, and then closed it. Dorean met her gaze, keeping his expression neutral. Khalid looked from one to the another, biting his bottom lip.

After a moment, Jaheira looked from Dorean to Imoen.

"Imoen."

"Yes, Jaheira?"

"Do you still wish to continue travelling with them?"

Imoen stared unblinking at her, then looked down at Montaron and up at Xzar. Both men watched her, awaiting her answer.

"I'm willing to give 'em a chance."

Ten long, heavy seconds went by.

"So be it," said Jaheira. "But know this, _Zhents_." Her eyes narrowed to slits, their gaze focusing on Montaron. "We will be watching you."

Five seconds passed. Then, from his cross-legged position, Xzar shot upwards and to his feet in two seconds, his arms raised to cast a spell.

Jaheira and Khalid were both instantly to their feet as well, the former tightly gripping her quarterstaff and baring her teeth while the latter swiftly moved in front of her, drawing his sword and raising his shield.

Dorean dived to the side and rolled quickly to his feet, eyes widening in Imoen's direction.

 _Can I get to her in t-_

Xzar burst into laughter, pointing his finger at all three of them.

"HA! Hahahahahahaha! Ya should'a seen ya faces!" His laughter took on a manic note, and he doubled over clutching his stomach, tears of mirth running down his face. A flock of birds flew up and away into the sky.

"Someone shut 'im up 'fore every bandit inna country 'ears 'im," Montaron growled. Imoen looked at him, then stood up and took hold of Xzar's elbow.

"Xzar? Xzar."

The wizard blinked and looked down at her.

"You dropped your sandwich."

The wizard's jovial demeanor immediately deflated, and his eyes followed Imoen's pointing finger down to the delicacy now lying in the grass.

"...oh. Sorry."

Imoen hesitated, then gave the crestfallen man's arm a reassuring pat. "That's okay. I have another one."

Xzar brightened instantly and took the sandwich, tearing nosily into the bread. Beside them, Montaron rolled his eyes at Dorean and resumed his own meal.

Khalid and Jaheira slowly lowered themselves back onto the log and put away their weapons, watching the wizard eating his meal with delightful enthusiasm.

"He is a madman," whispered Jaheira, leaning close to Khalid. "I thought he was merely unstable."

Khalid silently nodded, placing his hand on her knee and gently patting it.

Both of them seemed to have forgotten Dorean's presence. The dwarf quietly sat down beside them, looking at Imoen. She met his gaze, and the roommates exchanged shrugs.

Finishing his last sandwich, Montaron removed a cloth from his shirt, wiped his hands, then stood and picked up his pack.

"I'll be up ahead," he said, glancing at Dorean.

He turned and walked back towards the road. Without looking behind him, he raised his hand, the thumb, index and middle finger extended in a mocking wave.

"Thanks fer the warning."

Dorean glanced sideways at the two Harpers; Jaheira was glaring daggers at Montaron's back while Khalid was looking at Xzar happily sitting next to Imoen.

The dwarf paused, his gaze lingering on the Calishite; the expression of undisguised loathing and contempt was odd to look at on the face of such a seemingly gentle-natured man.

Dorean lowered his gaze to his lap, closing his eyes.

 _I'm going to have to keep them from killing each other. At least long enough for them to be useful._


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Deciding to risk being spotted by her again, Dorean kept his head facing forward and moved only his eyes, looking across from Khalid to Jaheira.

If looks could kill, Xzar and Montaron would have both been obliterated.

For the last few hours, Jaheira's icy, slit-eyed glare had been boring into the backs (Xzar's back and Montaron's head, to be precise) of the two Zhents walking in front of her, and there appeared to be no sign of it receding. If anything, it seemed to have intensified.

Dorean slowly looked back to the road. _This is not good_. _She might explode any second at this rate._ He lowered his head and eye-lids, furrowing his brow. _Accusing her like that couldn't have helped._

He lifted his head to glance at the half-elf walking next to him.

Khalid's clearly-worried expression had been slowly building to anxiety since Jaheira began to mentally burn holes in Xzar and Montaron's backs. He had refrained from speaking to her nonetheless, choosing instead to throw her constant looks and to bite his bottom lip.

Imoen glanced furtively behind her yet again before resuming her conversation with Xzar. Dorean cocked his head to listen; it seemed to be about dinner.

He paused, risking a brief glance at Jaheira, then back to Imoen.

 _She's trying to keep their minds off of her._

He looked up at Khalid walking between him and Jaheira.

 _I should do the same._

"Have you travelled on this road before, Khalid?"

The Calishite gave a start before looking down at the dwarf.

"It's just..." Dorean deliberately hesitated and looked away. "This is supposed to be the Coast Way, right? From Calimport to Waterdeep?" He paused again. "Yet we have not seen _anyone_ else out here." He looked up at Khalid. "Is it always this quiet?"

Khalid looked at Jaheira, who finally took a break from glaring at Xzar and Montaron to return his gaze, before turning back to Dorean. "I...I d-don't know. J-Jaheira and I only arrived here from Waterdeep r-r-recently."

Resisting the urge to glance at Jaheira who must be looking at him now, Dorean kept his gaze on Khalid's face, silently beseeching him to keep talking.

"W-Well..." said Khalid, looking up to the road ahead. "It c-could be a g-g-good thing. For you. I mean."

Dorean tilted his head and blinked, imitating Imoen's gesture and expression of polite inquisitiveness.

"This road is usually p-patrolled by the Flaming F-F-Fist."

"Oh," Dorean replied, looking away. He lowered his voice. "You might be right."

"Khalid."

Both Khalid and Dorean started, looked at Jaheira and then immediately followed her gaze.

Two figures appeared on the road ahead, staggering slowly towards the party.

The smaller one had his arm around the shoulders of the other and was limping very badly. He was groaning and grunting in pain with every step.

His companion's eyes were half-closed, and he appeared to be on the verge of losing consciousness. His tunic had been stained almost entirely red, and small puddles of blood were forming in his wake.

"Gods..." said Imoen, bringing a hand to her mouth.

Both men stopped upon seeing the party, the smaller one's eyes bugging out in anxious fear.

"D-don't you be gettin' any closer!" he shouted, his voice fierce yet panicking. "Or...or...I'll have Mom come and give you the belt!"

Dorean frowned and cocked his head. _He's only a child._

The boy took one look at Xzar and Montaron, panicked, and attempted to backpedal. He screamed as he put weight on his wounded leg and fell backwards, bringing his companion down with him.

One second of stillness elapsed.

Then Imoen, Khalid and Jaheira, the latter two hurrying past Xzar and Montaron, ran up to the fallen duo.

Moving a few paces ahead of the two bodies, Khalid stopped with his sword and shield drawn, narrowed eyes sweeping the road ahead.

Imoen kneeled in front of the thoroughly-bloodied man and was then gently but firmly shoved aside by Jaheira.

Dorean paused, then made to join them. He glanced at Xzar and Montaron as he jogged past.

Montaron was ignoring the scene in front of him and, like Khalid, was scanning the area ahead.

Xzar stood still, arms loose at his sides and head tilted, wearing an expression that, at a glance, could be perceived as 'sleepy.'

Dorean blinked, then shoved the image away into the back of his mind as he reached Imoen's side.

"This one has lost a lot of blood," said Jaheira, looking over the larger of the two men. "I need to see to him first. You two," She looked up at Dorean and Imoen. "Help me carry him over there." She pointed to a small thicket of trees about twenty paces off the road. "I will take the other one."

Dorean and Imoen exchanged looks. "I'll take his legs," said the dwarf. Imoen paused for a few seconds, then nodded.

As he helped Imoen lift the unconscious person between them while Jaheira lifted the boy in an over-the-shoulder carry, an image of a recent memory appeared in Dorean's mind; two people carrying a single body over to a freshly-dug grave. He glanced once again at Xzar and Montaron before returning to his task.

..

* * *

Jaheira reached the thicket before Dorean and Imoen did. After laying the close-eyed and groaning boy on the grass, she went over and took hold of the other man under his arms, shifting Imoen aside with her hips. Khalid followed them, swivelling his head and tightly gripping his sword and shield.

The instant Dorean and Jaheira lowered their burden to the ground, the latter said, "Step back, give me room," without looking up at the dwarf, her attention focused on her patient. Dorean obeyed silently, hurrying over to stand next to Imoen.

Together, they stood several paces away, watching Jaheira taking hold of and tearing the man's thoroughly bloodied shirt without hesitating, then quickly assessing the severity and extent of the man's wounds.

"Barbed arrows," said Jaheira, sitting on her knees and leaning over the body. "One in the chest and another in the shoulder. He must have pulled them out."

"The wounds are fresh," said Xzar's voice from several paces to Dorean and Imoen's right.

The duo turned to see Xzar and Montaron standing side-by-side (though not very close), though Montaron had his back to all of them, facing outward from the thicket.

"The ones who did this are not far away," Xzar continued.

Feeling a lump drop in his chest, Dorean's eyes immediately flicked to Jaheira.

The woman said nothing, instead momentarily staring coldly at Xzar before focusing on her patient.

Dorean's gaze then moved to Khalid, and his eyes widened and he inhaled sharply.

The Calishite's face had turned blank, and despite having lowered his sword to his side, his right hand was tightening its grip on the handle.

"We are _not_ abandoning them."

Dorean and Imoen both started and stared at the half-elf. The dwarf felt his heart skip a beat.

Gone was the nervousness and the stuttering, replaced by a hard-edged, severe tone and a fierce, cold expression that brooked no argument or disobedience.

Montaron turned his head to emotionlessly glance over his shoulder, one eye focusing on Khalid's face.

Xzar blinked and then tilted his head almost to his shoulder.

"How very rude of you to assume that was my first thought," he purred. "And here I thought you were the nicer one."

Jaheira continued to carefully apply a healing potion to the man's chest-wound, but briefly moved her eyes to glare at Xzar for a half-second. The wizard ignored her, wagging a finger at Khalid.

"I am _not_ saying that we leave these two to die and flee for our lives." He paused with his finger in mid-wag, then brought it to his lips in thought. "Not right away, at least." He lowered his hand. "I was going to add that Monty and I are going to scout ahead. We will be back before you kn-"

"You will do no such thing," Jaheira said suddenly, sitting up on her knees and glaring daggers at the two Zhents. Xzar frowned and placed his hands on his hips.

"The attackers might be comin' this way, or set up traps or ambushes fer travellers up ahead," said Montaron without turning around. "If ye're gonna waste time lookin' to those two-"

"And you expect us to allow you to set up a trap of your own?" said Jaheira. "We are not letting both of you out of our sight."

Beside Imoen, Dorean quietly groaned and briefly closed his eyes.

Montaron's one visible eye slowly blinked.

"Last I checked, I don't take orders from ye," he said calmly.

Jaheira froze for a few seconds, then grabbed her quarterstaff and stood up, walking towards Montaron. Her right hand, bloodied from examining the stranger's wounds, tightly gripped the haft of her weapon.

Imoen released the breath she had been holding, her eyes darting from Jaheira to Khalid. Un-tilting his head, Xzar raised both his hands with palms up and facing Jaheira.

"Now, now, madam Harpy. How about you and me have what people call an exchange? I leave Monty with you, and your hubby can come with m-"

 _"Shut. Up."_ Jaheira snarled, her lips peeling back to reveal her barred teeth, making her appear almost dog-like.

She took a few more steps towards Xzar and Montaron, and Dorean suddenly focused his gaze on the short-sword on Montaron's back, noting the unusually large, flat sheath.

"We're wastin' time," said Montaron to Xzar. "Let's go." Turning his gaze forward, he began to walk away from the thicket.

"Not one more step!" Jaheira shouted.

The halfling stopped, then slowly turned around to face her, his eyes lowering to half-lids in an expression of detached boredom. Xzar, his head still tilted widely, removed his hands from his hips, letting them fall loosely to his sides.

Khalid swiftly moved in front of and to the side of his wife with sword and shield raised.

Jaheira advanced another step and then started when Imoen darted in front of her and Khalid, facing them with her arms spread wide.

"Stop! I'll...I'll go with him!"

There was an immediate and loud chorus of "No!" as Dorean, Khalid, Jaheira and Montaron simultaneously gave their answers. Imoen jumped, then slumped her shoulders and slightly lowered her head.

The dwarf hesitated for one second, then went over to stand beside her, facing Xzar and Montaron. He lifted his head and spoke loudly. "Look, why don't we just let Jaheira finish healing them, then avoid the area ahead and detour around?"

"No," replied Montaron. "Takes hours to get through these hills and trees, be it east or west." He paused, looking at the dwarf. "We got business in Beregost that can't wait. About a dwarf. Not 'im," he added upon seeing Khalid and Jaheira's expressions.

Dorean paused, then breathed in and out deeply. "Very well. Jaheira," he looked over his shoulder to meet the Tethyrian's gaze, keeping his voice calm and steady. "You _need_ to stay here and see to the two men. They are both in very bad shape, and I doubt anyone here is a more able healer than you." He paused again, then looked at Xzar. "No offense."

Xzar blinked, then raised his hand, closed his eyes and shook his head. "None taken. Most."

"Right," replied Dorean. He then looked at Khalid and jerked his own head slightly in Montaron's direction. "And Khalid, I think Montaron is right; if we _are_ going to linger here, some of us need to scout ahead, and quickly." He looked from Khalid to Jaheira, ensuring that he had their full attention. "And I think that Xzar's idea is the best way. Except that Montaron and I should go with Khalid."

"What?" said Imoen, blinking down at Dorean.

"It is clear that you don't trust each other," the dwarf continued, forcing himself to ignore the girl standing next to him. "So I should go with both of you," he looked from Khalid to Montaron. "As a mediator." He extended both of his gloved hands with the palms facing skywards. "What do you say?"

Imoen placed her hand firmly on Dorean's shoulder. He again ignored her, awaiting the answers of the other four.

"Ye ever done a scouting mission?" said Montaron.

"No," replied the dwarf. "But I know how to move quietly and to stay out of sight."

"Mm." The halfling's black eyes quietly met Dorean's, then Khalid's. Montaron held Khalid's gaze for several seconds. Then he looked back to Dorean and silently nodded.

Discretely releasing his held breath through his beard, Dorean then turned to face Khalid and Jaheira, of whom the latter had lightly taken hold of Khalid's arm above the elbow.

"I do not like this," said Jaheira, lowering her voice to a near-whisper.

"He is right, Jaheira," replied Khalid, also lowering his voice. "These two need your help," he jerked his head at the nearby supine strangers.

They stared at one another for a moment. Then Jaheira swallowed and released Khalid's arm.

"Do not let him out of your sight. Not for a second. Keep him in front of you if you can."

"I will."

Jaheira hesitated again, then simply nodded and quickly returned to her patients.

"Imoen. I need your assistance," she called out.

The pink girl paused, then looked from Jaheira to Dorean.

"Go," said Dorean firmly. "I'll be fine."

Imoen hesitated, looking down at the dwarf in front of her. She then leaned over and gave him a quick hug. "Be careful."

Before Dorean could react, she released the hug, straightened, looked at him for a few more seconds, then hurried over to Jaheira's side.

Dorean watched her for a brief moment, his expression pensive, before nodding to Khalid and walking with him to catch up to Montaron who was already leaving the thicket.

He felt Xzar and Jaheira's eyes on the back of his head, and resisted the urge to look behind him.

..

* * *

With Montaron in the lead and Dorean in the rear, the trio set off at a fast jog. Moving far off from the road while keeping it just within sight, they ran southward into the shadows of the trees. Khalid bent forward to protect his face from passing branches, which skimmed off the top and sides of his helmet. Montaron and Dorean, being of shorter height, were not as impeded, though they needed to jump slightly over rocks and tree roots.

They ran for nearly a mile in this faschion across the gradual upward-slope of the forest floor, none of them seeming to slow or tire. Dorean allowed himself a brief smirk at his own hardy dwarven stamina. G _uess Reevor's exercise regime was good for something after all._

As they approached the southern tree-line, Montaron and Khalid slowed down and crept to its edge. They stopped in the shadow of a large oak, Montaron kneeling down while Khalid went supine on his stomach. Dorean moved next to Khalid, keeping the half-elf between him and Montaron, then got down on one knee and followed the direction of their eyes. He blinked once, then focused his gaze on the scene of a massacre.

On the road at the bottom of the forested hill lay six large, unmoving caravan wagons. Several dozen bodies were strewn around them. Most had been pierced with arrows.

Armed men clad in mail-shirts of splint moved throughout the area, busying themselves with looting the wagons and corpses and retrieving their arrows.

His eyes roving over the corpses, Dorean noted that some of them were armed and armoured. _Not that it did them much good._

"Not bandits," said Khalid, his voice low and calm. "Too disciplined."

"How can you tell?" asked Dorean.

The Calishite glanced sideways at the dwarf. "It's a soldier thing," he said softly before quickly returning his gaze to the raided caravan.

"They're takin' everythin'," said Montaron. "Weapons, armour, helmets...even the wheels from the wagons."

"I count twenty at least. Probably more," said Khalid. He pointed with his left hand, it being closer to Dorean than his right. "Most of the guards have been shot in the back. They must have hit the caravan from both sides and aimed at the ones not facing them. These people are professionals."

Dorean frowned and, moving his head very slightly, glanced sideways at Khalid. The man's expression was the same as his voice; calm and collected.

 _What happened to his stutter?_

He looked up, saw Montaron glancing at him, and looked away.

They stayed silent for a moment, watching the attackers from the caravan raid collecting their spoils of victory. One of them walked up to a crawling caravan guard, turned him over, stabbed him in the neck with his sword, then began looting the corpse.

Khalid's expression remained unchanged, though he blinked three times in one second. He turned to face Dorean.  
"You shouldn't have had to see that." He paused. "I...I'm sorry for bringing you with us."

Dorean shook his head and opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by Montaron.

"Doesn't look like they'll be movin' off soon. I'd be guessin' this happened less than a half-hour 'fore we got here."

The dwarf and half-elf looked at the halfling, then at each other before resuming their scouting mission.

"In any case, there are too many for us to fight, even to break past them," said Khalid.

"There might be a ways we could sneak past 'em, then," said Montaron, pointing up and to the left where the forested hill continued to slope upward. He then looked at Dorean. "You. Go check it out."

Khalid's head snapped to the side to face Montaron, his calm expression immediately turning hard and cold. Dorean felt his stomach drop.

"We are not sending him alone up there."

"It be more risky if we all go," said Montaron, his voice beginning to sound disrespectfully bored.

Dorean stayed still in his one-kneed position, watching Khalid glare at the halfling.

After a moment, Khalid said, "I'll do it."

"Wit' that armour a'yers? The sun's in front o' us now." Montaron sneered. "Thought a soldier an' a Harper would'a known that."

Dorean briefly closed his eyes and groaned inwardly.

"Then why don't you go?" said Khalid, his low whisper becoming a snarl.

There was a moment of silence. Then Montaron answered, his voice matching his bored, indifferent expression.

"'Cos I don't want to."

Khalid rose off the ground and onto one knee, bringing his own face level with Montaron's, then fiercely pointed a finger inches from the halfling's nose.

"Listen, you little-"

"Enough, both of you," Dorean hissed. Khalid and Montaron froze, neither moving nor taking their eyes off of each other. "I'll do it."

Khalid hesitated, then rose up on both knees. Keeping his body facing Montaron, he turned his head to glance at Dorean while keeping the halfling in his peripheral vision.

"It's too dangerous, Dorean. You shouldn't-"

"I am the smallest of the three of us, anyway," the dwarf interrupted. "Montaron is correct. Again." He paused for a few seconds to stare coldly at the halfling. "I'll go see if the hillside is guarded."

"Dorean..." said Khalid, fixing his one-eyed stare on the dwarf.

"And if it is, I'll come back immediately."

A moment passed in silence. Then, with another hard glare at Montaron, Khalid turned around, putting his back to the halfling.

Dorean blinked; even with Khalid sitting on his knees, the dwarf still had to look up slightly to meet his gaze.

Khalid hesitated again, then placed a hand on Dorean's shoulder.

"Promise me that you won't take any risks. If you see or hear _anything_ , you get back here straight away, you understand?"

As he looked into Khalid's solemn, worrying eyes, Dorean felt a pang in his chest. For a moment, the image of the armoured half-elf disappeared, replaced by an old, bearded, gray-haired human dressed in sky-blue robes.

He blinked, and the image disappeared. Then he slowly nodded once.

"I promise." He paused, then gave a small grin. "But only if you and Montaron promise not to quarrel while I'm gone."

Khalid swallowed, then nodded. "We won't."

Dorean smiled, then leaned sideways to look at Montaron. "What about you?"

"Fine," replied the halfling, rolling his eyes. "Jus' hurry up an' go."

The dwarf then looked at Khalid, nodded again, then gently brushed the man's hand from his shoulder and turned to climb up the hill, moving further into the forest and away from the tree-line.

Montaron's eyes followed Dorean out of sight, then moved upward to a light-blue bird perched on the branch of the oak. His expression turned blank, and his gaze lingered on the small animal before looking at Khalid, who returned his stare with an equally blank expression of his own. After a moment, the halfling smirked and silently returned to watching the caravan.

..

* * *

Despite moving slowly, it still took Dorean longer than he expected to reach the hilltop.

 _I never had to remain alert in Candlekeep while also watching where I stepped_ , he thought, stepping over yet another tree-root. The dwarf then paused for a few seconds at the memory of his old home before shaking his head and focusing on his climb.

Eventually, he reached a point where the hill stopped sloping outwards and the trees began to thin out, and a few minutes later, he blinked as he emerged from the shade of the trees onto the flat hilltop.

Stopping for a moment to catch his breath, Dorean then moved at a crouch towards the southern edge of the hill. He blinked upon realizing that he was now at the top of a cliff. The dwarf looked straight down at the rocky cliff-face, then lifted his gaze to the raided caravan far below.

He paused, then crawled backwards away from the edge of the cliff, standing up once he was out of sight of the caravan.

 _Seems like they didn't set any lookouts up here._ He turned his head left and right, surveying his surroundings. _Though it may not be the case for lo-_

Voices, coming from the east side of the hill.

Dorean's eyes widened, and he immediately cursed himself upon realizing how far he had moved from the trees.

He frantically turned his head left and right, his eyes darting around and then stopping at a large bush several paces to his right.

There was no time to consider; they were almost upon him.

Dorean dived into the leaves, turned to face in the direction of the approaching voices, and dropped down on his knees and elbows.

He hurriedly pulled his cloak over himself just as the faces of two clean-shaven men appeared over the edge of the hill.

..

* * *

"By the Great Mother, was that a long climb. Why did you volunteer us for sentry duty?"

"You should be thanking me, you fool."

" _Thanking_ you, Greger? For this?"

"Yes, Anton, for getting you out of sight of the others _and_ for volunteering myself as well! You have been drinking!"

"I have n-"

"Do not deny it!" Greger paused to shake his head in disgust. "Lathander help me, what have I done to deserve a friend like you?"

The other man fell silent and then hung his head. "You are right. I am sorry, Greger." He paused. "I...I just..."

"What were you thinking, Anton? You know very well what the penalty is for drinking while on a contract."

"Look, I...I just needed something to take the edge off. We have been doing this for months now. I have had enough of games of cards and dice, _and_ I have not enjoyed a woman's touch since we left Iriaebor!"

"Khosann's orders, Anton. No one is to leave the camp without permission, nor approach any of the local settlements."

Anton looked away, his expression darkening.

"I heard that the freelancers brought women into the camp."

Greger's eyes narrowed to slits, and he folded his arms over his chest.

"Did you also hear of what happened to them afterwards?" he said slowly.

Anton lowered his head and swallowed. "Look, I was not-"

"Do you know what Khosann would do to you if he learns that you are even thinking of-"

"I am _not_ thinking of that!" Anton shouted, stepping forward. "Don't you _dare_ accuse me of that, Greger, or I'll-"

"Or what?"

They stood very still, their faces inches apart and glaring daggers at each other.

In a bush about ten paces away, what appeared to be a gray boulder of rock hopefully and very slightly lifted its head.

A moment passed, then, still glaring at his partner, Anton took a few steps backwards, grumbling to himself.

The boulder lowered its head in disappointment.

"Khosann this, Khosann that..."

"He has served us well, Anton."

"You really believe that? What about just now, when he took that suit of plate mail for himself?"

There was a pause. "I believe that he thought it was best. Most of us could not have worn it anyway."

Anton snorted and looked away, folding his arms. "Of course you would believe that."

A moment passed in sullen silence between the two men.

"Strange, now that you mention it," said Greger.

"What is?"

"That the man was wearing that under his clothes." Greger tilted his head, clearly lost in thought. "And there was also a sack of gold hidden in his wagon, in the false bottom of a wooden chest."

"So he was a merchant who was paranoid about being robbed," said Anton dismissively.

"How many merchants do you know of who wear plate armour underneath their clothing?"

There was another pause as both men considered this.

"You were closer, Anton. What did he say to Khosann?"

Anton shrugged. "Something about his father. He never finished the sentence."

"Hmm. Could he have been a noble in disguise? And if so, why disguise himself?"

Anton spread his arms wide and to his sides. "What does it matter? He is dead now. Our revered leader saw to that."

"I suppose you are right," replied Greger, scratching the slight fuzz on his chin.

"Ah," said Anton, blinking and turning around. "I need to..."

"Yes, yes," replied Greger, giving a dismissive wave.

To the boulder's consternation, Anton walked right up to it, unbuckled his trousers, and started to relieve himself.

Ten long seconds passed with the boulder holding its breath and silently grinding its teeth behind its closed mouth.

Then, just as Anton had finished answering nature's call and was about to turn away, a breeze blew up the hill, causing the 'boulder' to flutter slightly.

Anton's eyes narrowed, then widened.

"Are you finished yet?" said Greger, still averting his gaze. When no answer came, he looked over at his partner. "Anton?"

The man was now standing very still. Frowning, Greger began to walk towards his partner.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, Greger," replied Anton, his voice sounding oddly calm. "Nothing is wrong. I just..." he paused, then lifted his head. "I need to take a shit."

Greger groaned. "Can it not wait until later?"

"No, no, I really need to do it now, and I _cannot with you watching_ ," said Anton, his voice suddenly forceful as he turned his head to glance over his shoulder at his partner. "Just...just go away. Out of sight. I will call you when I am done."

Greger paused, then sighed audibly.

"Have it your way, then."

He turned around and walked toward the edge of the cliff to enjoy the view.

Anton stayed still, listening to his partner's receding footsteps. Feeling a bead of sweat flow down his temple, he looked back down at the blade pressed up against his exposed genitals. His eyes travelled from it to the small, short arm holding the knife's handle, hidden behind his own leg, down to the cloak he had earlier mistaken for a boulder.

"Lean forward and crouch down. Slowly."

Anton hesitated, then flinched as the blade of the knife pressed very, very slightly into his groin. "Yes, yes! Just..."

"Now."

Anton swallowed and then obeyed, leaning forward over the boulder.

The instant he had crouched down as low as he could go, another arm shot out from under the cloak, driving a second knife through the bottom of his chin. The first knife followed a half-second later, plunging into the side of his neck.

Anton's eyes went wide for a half-second before his body went limp and his knees sank onto the ground.

 _Not a sound. Good._

Letting go of the knives, Dorean quickly grabbed hold of the body and pushed forward, forcing it to stay upright.

"Hurry up, Anton," called Greger's voice, a short distance away and getting closer. "I think they are nearly done down there. We should be getting back."

He stopped short upon seeing Anton kneeling down in front of the bush, his pants only slightly lowered and still covering most of his posterior.

"Lathander help me," he muttered, then began striding purposely towards his partner with fists clenched. "If you have passed out, I promise I am not going to carry-"

Anton's body fell to the side, revealing the two knives buried in his chin and neck.

For a half-second, Greger stared at the corpse with wide eyes. Then he looked up.

The dwarf was already loading his crossbow.

His face contorting in rage, Greger sped full-pelt towards Anton's killer, roaring at the top of his lungs.

He was about five paces away and had just fully drawn and raised his sword over his head, when Dorean raised the crossbow up high and shot him point-blank in the throat.

The dwarf then immediately leapt to the right. Greger's sword clattered loudly onto the ground, followed by its owner's body.

Taking a few seconds to breathe in and out once, Dorean then hurried over to Anton's corpse and retrieved his knives. Sheathing all but one of them, he quickly cut a coin pouch from the dead man's belt, stood up and began to turn away, then looked back at Anton. He blinked, then sheathed his belt knife and began working the man's arrow quiver free from his body.

He looked up upon hearing a loud gurgle.

Greger had somehow managed to turn himself around on the ground, and was now attempting to crawl towards him one-handed, his other hand clamped around the crossbow bolt embedded in his throat.

Dorean cocked his head, noting the head of the bolt protruding from the back of his neck. He looked down at Anton's wide-eyed face, then back at Greger. The dwarf watched him quietly for a moment, then went back to removing the quiver.

After slinging it awkwardly over his shoulder and across his pack, he got up and walked over to Greger. The man reached out with his free hand, taking hold of Dorean's boot. His grip was weak. There was no strength behind it.

 _He will be dead in minutes._

"So much for friendship, huh?" said Dorean, his voice and expression emotionless.

Blood issued from Greger's mouth as he attempted to speak. His words were lost in another gurgle, but the hatred in his eyes was clear.

Dorean stared down at his face for a moment, then shook his boot free of the man's grip and stepped over his shoulder and past his body.

He disappeared into the shadows of the trees, ignoring Greger's unintelligible, dying curses following softly after him.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

 _Putting down his quill-pen to flex his fingers, Gorion glanced at the large stack of scrolls on the right-hand side of his desk. He took a deep breath through his nose and then exhaled it in a sigh._

 _There was the sound of a book-page being turned, and he looked up at the now-familiar sight of the little dwarf lying on a bed with a book balanced upright on his chest. The large, open tome completely obscured his face from view._ _Gorion watched him for a moment before looking at the floor next to the head of the bed. The stack of books had become a pile._

 _I may have to do something about this soon._

 _He then went still, his eye-lids lowering as he contemplated the dwarf._

 _It's been a week now, and he hasn't spoken to anyone. Except me, that is._

 _Seemingly feeling the wizard's eyes on him, Dorean tilted the book backwards, bringing his face into view, and returned Gorion's quiet stare with a blinking, unreadable one of his own._

 _Gorion blinked himself and then looked away. He picked up his quill-pen and got as far as a single sentence before pausing distractedly._

 _Perhaps it would be best to keep him away from other people._

 _... or is it?_

 _He frowned at nothing, not noticing the blotted ink from his pen spreading over the parchment._

 _He is living here now. I cannot expect everybody to just ignore him._

 _And yet..._

 _He put the pen down again, placed his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers._

 _Persuading him to interact with others...is that wise? Or will it lead to disaster?_

 _He lowered his face into his hands, covering and then closing his eyes._

 _I have no idea what I am doing, am I?_

 _He remained still for a long moment, silently resting his head in his hands._

 _"You ever fought an ogre?"_

 _He looked up. "Sorry?"_

 _"Ogres. You ever fought one?"_

 _Gorion hesitated, then nodded very slowly. "I have fought some, yes," he said quietly._

 _"What was the strongest one you fought?"_

 _The wizard was silent for a moment. Then he got up, walked slowly over to the side of the bed, and sat down at the opposite end from Dorean. The little dwarf did not need to move his feet for him; they barely reached the halfway-point of the bed._

 _They stayed that way for about twenty seconds, unmoving and looking at each other, before Gorion looked up and away, closing his eyes._

 _"The strongest ogre I have ever fought..." He opened his eyes. "Imaldasz of Ulgarth."_

 _Dorean blinked and cocked his head. "Who's that?"_

 _"She was an elder ogre," replied Gorion. Turning to face the dwarf, he smiled softly at the boy's curious expression. "They are different from other ogres; bigger and taller, with different colours skin and hair."_

 _"They strong?" the dwarf asked, scratching his goatee. Gorion nodded._

 _"Very strong. They are also generally smarter and more cunning than most other ogres. Many of them could use magic as well."_

 _"And this Imal..."_

 _"Imaldasz."_

 _"She was the strongest one? And you fought her?"_

 _"Yes, I did."_

 _"And won?"_

 _Gorion smiled and nodded quietly. Dorean pushed himself upright to look at him better. The book slid unnoticed from his chest, landing on the bed with a slight 'thump.'_

 _A moment passed with Gorion looking down at the wide-eyed, almost eager expression of the little dwarf. Then his smile deepened and he shifted in his seat to face Dorean better._

 _"I did not face her alone, though. I was part of a team."_

 _"Were they Harpers?" asked Dorean. Gorion nodded._

 _"Yes, they were. And we were very, very careful. Before we confronted Imaldasz, we learnt all we could about her and prepared accordingly. We had surprise on our side; she was not aware that we were coming for her."_

 _He paused and briefly closed his eyes for a moment before resuming his tale._

 _"We defeated her without losing anyone of our own. It was close, however," he added upon seeing Dorean's face. "Very close. Had we not been prepared, and if she had been alerted before we launched our attack, it could have gone much worse."_

 _Dorean nodded silently, his small, round head bobbing back and forth, before lowering his gaze to the book beside him. Gorion looked at the tome as well and then at the dwarf._

 _"Were there any ogres in it?"_

 _"...yeah," replied Dorean._ _Gorion's brow furrowed slightly at_ _the hesitation in his voice. He remained still, watching the boy. Dorean picked up the book with one hand, paused, then put it down again._

 _"I've now read five of them books that had ogres in 'em. And in all o' them, they're always evil, and savage, and 'brutish,'" he said, stretching out the last word. "And they like to eat the ones they kill." He paused, rubbing his tiny, stubby fingers on the cover. "I read that dwarf is their favourite kind of meat." Dorean lifted his gaze to meet Gorion's. "Are they all like that?"_

 _Several long seconds passed. To Gorion, they seemed like minutes. When he opened his mouth to speak, the effort of moving his lips seemed somehow heavier than it should._ _"Have you ever met or seen an ogre?"_

 _The little dwarf shook his head; the tip of his goatee swung from side to side._

 _Gorion looked away at the opposite wall. After a moment, he returned his gaze to Dorean._

 _"Not all ogres are evil, savage or brutish. Nor do they all like to eat their foes. But I will admit, many of the ogres I have come across were bad, though some of them weren't as bad as the ones in your books." He paused."I have met good ogres too; one of the nicest and most kind people I have ever met was an ogre." He paused again and briefly lowered his head. "He was a great friend."_

 _There was silence for a long moment with Dorean quietly looking up at the tall, blue-robed wizard, before Gorion looked back to him._

 _"And there are others who just want to live their lives." He paused for a few seconds, looking into the dwarf's gray eyes. "Not all ogres are bad people, Dorean." He then sighed softly. "However, yes, most of the ones I have met personally were evil."_

 _Dorean nodded quietly. "Imaldasz...was she evil?"_

 _For a very, very brief moment, Gorion's expression turned hard, and his eyes seemed to glint in the dusty light of the room. When he spoke, however, his voice was as soft and quiet as it was before._

 _"Yes...yes, she was."_

 _Dorean nodded slowly again. His eyes went to the book beside him, and he slowly picked it up and held it in front of him, turning it over in his hands._

 _"You ever fought anyone who wasn't evil?"_

 _For a very long time, Gorion went silent, and it seemed that even his breathing had completely ceased._

 _"...I believe it is nearly time for lunch." He stood up off the bed. "Would you like to accompany me to the kitchen? I would be glad for your company."_

 _The little dwarf blinked up at him, then silently nodded and placed the book down on the bed before slowly stepping off onto the box and then the floor._

 _Turning the knob for him, Gorion held the door open. Dorean shuffled across the doorway and waited for Gorion to close the door and walk by him before following closely behind the wizard._

..

* * *

"M...mom?"

"Close, but not quite," came the slightly teasing reply.

The boy closed his eyes tight, then opened them again. It took a few more minutes before his blurred vision swam into focus. Once again, he looked up at the face of the pink-clad girl sitting next to him. She gave a relieved smile and turned to her left.

"Jaheira, he's awake now."

"I can see that, child."

The druid appeared quickly beside Imoen, leaned forward to examine the boy's face and then his leg, then silently nodded to herself and promptly turned back to her other patient. When he saw his companion, the boy immediately sat up to get a better look.

"He okay? He gonna be alright? I...I-I fell down an-"

"Whoa, easy there, little man," Imoen said reassuringly, repeatedly patting his shoulder. "He's fine. He's just sleeping now; Jaheira is one heckuva healer."

Standing off to the side and facing them instead of keeping lookout, Xzar furrowed his brow in confusion and tilted his head at the words 'little man'; Imoen was barely half a head taller than the boy.

"What's your name?" said Imoen.

"J...Jase," said the boy, looking at her uncertainly. His eyes darted to Xzar and he involuntarily shrank away.

"Oh, don't worry 'bout him," said Imoen. "He may look a little scary, but he's mostly harmless."

Both Jaheira and Jase gave her incredulous looks. Imoen briefly closed her eyes and gave a wide grin.

"You gave us quite a fright when you appeared, walking up all bloody and grisly-like," she said.

"Y...yea," Jase said quietly, lowering his head. Imoen's grin faded slightly as she looked at the boy's face. _He may have had friends or family back there._

"I am almost finished with your friend," said Jaheira. They both turned to see her easing what looked like a small, bluish-purple berry into the man's mouth.

"What's she doing?" asked Jase.

"She's giving him magic sweets," replied Imoen.

"Magic sweets?"

"Yep. Berries, actually. I gave you some just now for your leg." She glanced at Jase, expecting him to look at the mentioned limb, but the boy continued to watch his partner instead.

The man gave a loud cough, groaned and opened his eyes. Jase immediately slid sideways across the ground towards him, bumping against Imoen.

"Give him space," said Jaheira, placing a firm hand on the boy's chest to stop his movement. Jase struggled for a few seconds before obeying her and moving back. She then returned her attention to the now-conscious man. "Can you hear me clearly?"

"Y...yes. Yes I can." His eyes went to Jase's face. "You okay, Jase?"

"I-I'm sorry it was so stupid I fell down and we fell down together and-"

"Hush, child!" said Jaheira sharply. Jase instantly fell silent, staring meekly down at his companion. "You must control yourself," she added, her tone softening slightly. Imoen reached over and patted Jase on his broad back. Giving a quick nod of thanks to her, Jaheira turned back to the man.

"What is your name, sir?"

"Andout, miss. I...I am a messenger from Baldur's Gate." He blinked once, then quickly sat up and sprang to his feet with surprising speed. The others stood up as well, Imoen putting an arm around Jase's shoulders.

"Do not over-exert yourself," said Jaheira quickly. "You have only just recovered-"

"But I must dash to Beregost, I must!" said Andout, the words tumbling out of him. "I have an urgent message to deliver from the Grand Dukes!"

Jaheira's admonishing expression immediately become a frown. About ten paces away, Xzar's eyes shone in the shade of the thicket, and he very slightly tilted his head.

"What is this message?" said Jaheira.

"Err...urm...it's...it's confi...den..." said Andout, withering under Jaheira's stare. "...It is for Governor Kelddath Ormlyr. He is to make accommodations for a garrison force due to arrive from the city."

"The town's being garrisoned?" said Imoen, ignoring Jaheira's frown. "What for?"

"War with Amn," said Xzar softly. Everyone looked at him. The wizard tilted his head further, his eyes half-lidded and the ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Y-yes," said Andout, looking away from Xzar to Imoen and Jase. "The Grand Dukes believe that Amn is preparing to attack."

Jaheira crossed her arms, then brought one of them up to rub her chin. "This is ill news indeed."

"Yes it is. Which is why I must reach Beregost with all haste!"

"It would not be wise to resume your journey along your previous route," said Jaheira sagely, glancing at Jase who still had Imoen's arm around his shoulders. Andout hesitated, looking at Jase as well, and nodded glumly.

"Our friends are scouting the road ahead to see if it's safe," said Imoen. She looked up at the aforementioned road. "They should be coming back by now," she added, her voice lowering and tinged with uncertainty.

"They are, in fact," said Jaheira. Imoen blinked and looked at her.

"How d'you know that?"

Jaheira silently turned around to face the road. Blinking rapidly and still supporting Jase, Imoen exchanged looks with Andout. They all fell silent, facing the same direction as Jaheira.

A few minutes later, Dorean, Khalid and Montaron appeared, jogging out of the forest from the opposite side of the road.

Imoen immediately let go of Jase and stepped forward. When the trio reached the edge of the thicket, she made a beeline for Dorean, passing by Khalid and Montaron.

"Hey-" exclaimed the dwarf, stumbling in mid-run as she threw her arms around his head and smothered his beard.

"Oh thank Tymora! I was so worried," breathed Imoen. Leaning back with her hands on his shoulders, her eyes widened upon seeing specks of blood on his face. "Are you-"

"I'm okay, Imoen, I'm okay," said Dorean, raising his hands in a reassuring gesture. "It's not my blood."

He looked past her, his eyes moving quickly over the faces of their present company; all of them were now looking at him and Imoen.

His gaze lingered on Xzar; the wizard's head was now tilted far to the side, almost at a 45-degree angle, and his eyes were wide-open and shimmering. Dorean blinked and quickly looked away.

He then stepped back out of Imoen's arms, removed the arrow quiver from around his shoulders and handed it to her. She blinked and took it instinctively, then looked down and turned around to see that he had already walked by her to join the others. Slinging the quiver over her shoulder, she hurried over to stand beside him.

For a brief moment, Khalid's eyes went to Xzar for a few seconds before he then gave a nod in turn to Jase and Andout. "It is g-good to see that you have r-recovered. We were very worried."

Xzar noticed Dorean and Montaron exchanging glances. His eyes narrowed at Khalid.

"Thank you for your help," said Andout, bowing his head to Khalid and then looking at Jaheira. "If you hadn't come along when you did..."

"Did you see anyone else who was with us?" asked Jase anxiously. Khalid's expression became solemn, and he shook his head. Jase stared blankly at him, breathing in and out, before lowering his gaze to the ground. Andout placed an arm around him and gave his shoulder a squeeze. The boy leaned silently against him.

Khalid looked at them sadly for a moment before turning to Jaheira.

"The area ahead is not s-safe," he said softly. "There are too m-many of them, and they are st-still down the road."

"An' he killed a couple'a sentries an' din't bother ta hide the bodies," said Montaron, jerking a thumb at Dorean.

There was a sharp intake of breath from beside the dwarf. He glanced sideways at Montaron but said nothing, ignoring Imoen's hand tightly squeezing his shoulder. Khalid rounded angrily on the halfling.

"That would _never_ have happened if you didn't-"

"They must've found the bodies by now," said Montaron, ignoring Khalid and looking up at Jaheira. "Could be comin' this way already." He glanced at Andout and Jase. Noticing this, Jaheira stared coldly down at the halfling. For a brief second, her eyes went to Dorean before she turned to former caravan travellers.

"Do you still wish to go to Beregost?"

"Y...yes," replied Andout. "I have to get there. This message is important."

Jase continued to look at the ground in silence.

Jaheira looked at both of them for a moment before nodding.

"You should come with us, then. We must move east to avoid the attackers, then divert south to Beregost."

"That...that will take us through the trees and hills," said Andout. "It will take hours, and Jase is..."

"I can walk, thanks," said the boy, his tone now bitter and childish. He did not lift his head.

"But still..."

"We have little choice in the matter, and so do you," said Jaheira. With that, she turned to face Montaron.

"You and your partner," she glanced at Xzar. "Should with us. Unless you have an alternative means to reach the town?" she added, her tone now slightly mocking along with the usual ice.

Montaron stared silently up at her. Glancing sideways at him, Dorean could almost see the wheels turning in his pony-tailed head.

After a moment, Montaron's eyes flicked to Andout and Jase. Both of them flinched.

"They stumble, fall behind, it's ye problem."

He turned and walked away. Khalid and Jaheira's eyes followed him. The half-elves then looked at each other for a moment before Khalid turned to Andout and Jase.

"We need to g-go now. D-do either of you need help?"

"No, we are fine, thank you," replied Andout, though he looked at Jase again. "Both of you," he added to Jaheira. "We will not be a burden, I promise." He looked at Montaron's retreating back, then glanced over his shoulder nervously at Xzar, who noticed and raised his hand in a motionless wave.

"Just st-stay close to us," said Khalid softly. He attempted to pat Jase on the shoulder not covered by Andout's hand, but the boy shrugged him away. Seeing this, Imoen lowered her head and then looked at Dorean beside her.

"Was anyone left alive over there? Maybe taken prisoner?" she asked softly.

"I don't know," replied Dorean. "Maybe." He paused. "They were finishing off the wounded."

Imoen went quiet for a moment, watching Jase sadly. She then gave a sniff and lifted her head, then paused for a few seconds.

"Little brother...why do ya smell of-"

He made an unintelligible sound of irritation through his beard. Imoen immediately stopped talking.

A few minutes later, after gathering their belongings and ensuring that Andout and Jase could walk unsupported, they all resumed their journey with Montaron in the lead and Xzar in the rear.

As they made their way back north along the road and towards the hills, Dorean noticed Andout looking at him and resisted the urge to tug his hood lower over his face. He turned his head away, adjusting the crossbow on his back to cover the movement, then quickened his pace to move ahead of Andout, Jase and the Harpers. Blinking at this, Imoen hurried over beside him, ignoring the stench now emanating from the dwarf.

..

* * *

With Montaron leading and setting a quick pace, the party only had to travel north for about an hour before turning east. The going proved more difficult after they went off the road and began climbing the eastward hill, though Montaron refused to stop or slow down for the others.

Eventually, after a gruelling half-hour, they reached the top of the hill. Lifting his hand to shield his eyes from the afternoon sun, Dorean squinted as he gazed upon a yellow-brown, sun-baked plain littered with tall, coniferous trees in contrast to the forests behind and below them.

 _Glad the climb's over, but there's much less cover,_ he thought, glancing back down at the forests behind and below him and then at the sun slowly approaching the horizon. _We should not tarry here._

Montaron was already a short distance ahead; apparently, he had not paused to even catch his breath.

"He's in a real hurry, isn't he?" said Imoen. "You think we're gonna meet this dwarf friend of his?"

"Somehow," replied Dorean, tilting his head and eyeing Montaron's face. "I don't think 'friend' would be the right word."

For a moment, Dorean and Imoen watched the halfling waiting impatiently for them before turning to see Khalid and Jaheira helping Andout and Jase over the last leg of the hill-slope.

Xzar was the last to arrive; unperturbed by the uneven ground, he stepped up onto the hill-crest with his hands clasped behind his back, humming softly to himself.

 _Is he doing that just to annoy them?_ Dorean thought, glancing at Khalid and Jaheira's expressions. _At least he's not pretending to attack them this time._

They set off once more across the plain, grateful that their climb was at an end.

Jase had been quiet and downcast since they left the thicket, and aside from the occasional wheeze and wince of pain due to their marching, he had said nothing.

His mood was clearly beginning to weigh on the Harpers. Despite facing resolutely ahead and occasionally narrowing her eyes at Montaron's back, Jaheira could not help but glance at her husband's repeated looks over his shoulder at the boy.

Imoen then fell back to walk beside Jase and Andout, passing close to Jaheira along the way.

"Here," she said to Jase, taking his hand, holding it up and depositing a handful of berries into it. "For your leg."

The boy looked at them, at Imoen, then took one, chewed, and made a face. "They taste iffy. Hey!" he added when Imoen took one for herself.

"What?" she said. "You just said you don't like them."

"I never said that!" he replied loudly. "I just said they taste iffy!"

"Their purpose is medical, not culinary," said Jaheira, glancing at them over her shoulder. "And please do not attempt to steal from me again, Imoen," she added sternly. "If you had asked, I would have given them to you."

"Sorry, Jaheira," chimed the pink girl. "Forgot ta ask first."

"A likely story," Jaheira replied. "You should finish those, young man," she added to Jase. "They will speed your recovery."

"I said I can walk," Jase grumbled, though he looked down and away from Jaheira's one-eyed gaze and took another berry. "Ugh."

"I'm fine," said Andout quickly when Jaheira looked at him, glancing at Jase's berry-eating expression. The half-elf frowned and turned away.

"I haveta agree with Jase, Jaheira," said Imoen, making a face as she swallowed her berry. "These don't taste so good. Maybe if you add some flavour to them? Can druids do that?"

"You have very strange ideas of what is granted to servants of Nature, child," replied Jaheira without turning around. Dorean caught Khalid's eye and exchanged smiles with him, though Khalid did tilt his head and blink; it was difficult for him to tell with Dorean's beard.

 _She's helping him get his mind off of what happened earlier._

"DIIIIEEEEE!"

Everyone (including Montaron) whirled around, Dorean and Khalid reaching for their weapons while Jaheira raised her quarterstaff, to see Xzar flinging something off to the side. There was a _thunk_ and a single high-pitched chirp.

With a cry of triumph, Xzar hurried over and reached down, then grasped and held up by its tail the body of a large, grey-furred squirrel. Without pausing to remove the throwing dagger embedded in its side, Xzar turned around and held it up high to the party.

Andout and Jase stared at him, their expressions mortified. Dorean, Imoen and Khalid immediately looked at Jaheira; the woman's right eye and the fingers of her right hand were now twitching. Dorean then quickly glanced at Montaron; the halfling was seemingly watching the scene with a detached indifference, but had placed one hand behind his back.

Khalid took Jaheira by the shoulders and steered her away from Xzar, who lowered the carcass and pouted at the lack of applause.

"That was a great throw, Xzar," said Imoen, walking up to him. "Where did you learn to throw knives like that?"

Xzar's eyes widened dramatically and he wagged a finger from side to side at her, shaking his head. "Now, now, my young one. Be not asking questions ye don't want th' answers to, eh?"

Imoen blinked, looked at Montaron, then at Xzar again. "Why are you being mean to Monty?"

Xzar's shoulder and finger sagged, and he simply stared down at the pink girl with a perplexed expression. She stared back, then reached out with both hands and took hold of the dead squirrel. Blinking, he let go of its tail, relinquishing it to her.

"I've never had squirrel before," she said, removing the throwing dagger and handing it to Xzar without looking at him. The wizard took the weapon without looking away from her face, his expression dumbfounded. Ignoring the blood, Imoen examined the animal for several more seconds before looking at Dorean. "Do they taste like rat?"

Dorean paused, then shrugged his shoulders. "Not really. They're more lean and stringy. I still prefer rat, though." He looked up, aware of the others' eyes on him. "I sometimes eat cooked rat," he explained. "If you do not wish me to..." he added to Jaheira. The druid watched him for a few seconds before silently looking away.

"Hmm," said Imoen. "Well, thanks all the same, Xzar, but we're all hastin' to get to Beregost, Montaron especially, so I don't think we'd have time to cook anything now. We can later, though."

"...alright."

Imoen smiled, handed back the dead squirrel, wiped her hands on the thighs of her trousers, and walked back to the others.

"You said he was harmless," said Jase, his tone nervous and accusing.

Imoen paused. "I said he was _mostly_ harmless."

Montaron gave a loud grunt to display his impatience before turning around to continue walking.

As they resumed their journey, Dorean glanced at Jase; the boy was no longer staring at the ground and instead was shooting glances at Xzar behind them; the wizard had tucked the squirrel by its tail into his belt and resumed his humming, again to the tune of a song he could not recognize and yet somehow found familiar.

 _Well. **That** certainly got him out of the gloom._ The dwarf glanced at Xzar and narrowed his gray eyes. _Maybe that was his intention._

..

* * *

The sun continued its descent toward the horizon, and Imoen's chipper demeanour slowly faded with it.

Dorean looked up at her and hesitated before speaking. "Something on your mind?"

"Hm? Oh." She shook her head, seemingly more to herself than to him, and looked behind her. "I'm worried about Jase."

The dwarf joined her in subtly watching the boy. Despite Jase's claims to the contrary, Montaron's forced marching along with the climb up the hill had clearly taken its toll on him; his breathing had become audible rasps, and he was frequently clutching at his leg. Andout, whose shoulder Jase was now half-leaning on for support, noticed and returned Dorean and Imoen's gazes with a concerned expression. Imoen then stopped walking and turned to fully face them.

"Jaheira?" she called, looking past Andout and Jase to the half-elf. "How much longer d'you think it'll be until we reach the town?"

Jaheira hesitated as Andout turned to look at her, but only for a second. "I estimate no more than an hour, if we keep to our current speed and-"

She stopped, her back straightening. Noticing this, Khalid immediately drew his sword and followed Jaheira as she hurried to the front. The others watched as they moved past Montaron, dropping to half-crouches. Dorean and Imoen looked at each other before moving up to join them. Xzar remained at the back with Andout and Jase, his arms folded and still softly whistling.

"What is it?" said Imoen, her voice tinged with both excitement and apprehension as they reached Khalid and Jaheira crouching behind a large, light-brown pointed rock.

"Get down now," hissed Khalid, and Imoen immediately dropped to a low crouch and hiked her short-bow and two quivers before moving beside the half-elves. Dorean simply remained upright and walked up to join them.

"Below those two trees," said Jaheira, pointing with her chin.

Hidden in the shade of the branches, with its legs lazily splayed out upon the ground, was an ogre, eating a human leg like it was that of a chicken.

Dorean went very still, all emotion draining out of his face.

 _His father gave a single gesture and the two ogres in front of them instantly exploded..._

"Little brother?" said Imoen, looking down at him uncertainly.

Blinking and shaking his head, Dorean quickly looked up at her. "C'mon," she added after a moment's hesitation, gesturing with her head to Jaheira who was now moving back to join the others and signalling to them to do the same.

Feeling Khalid's hand on his shoulder, Dorean averted his gaze from both him and Imoen, instead nodding quietly and hurrying to join them.

..

* * *

"Never seen one of them before," said Imoen.

"Me too," said Jase. "Gosh, you see how tall it was? As big as this tree here," he added, pointing up at one of the several trees they were gathered under.

"Any of you fought those things before?" said Andout, his voice anxious and shaking. He looked away and crossed his trembling arms. "Gods, this was a mistake, I shouldn't've..."

"We have heard of an ogre attacking passing travellers in this area," said Jaheira, ignoring him. "Apparently, it has a fetish for enchanted belts."

"Where did you hear this?" asked Dorean. Jaheira gazed coolly at him for a moment.

"From a dwarf in the Friendly Arm. According to her, she managed to convince it to let her live in exchange for her magic girdle."

Breathing in deeply, Jaheira looked away from the group in the direction where they had last seen the ogre.

"This one picked a good vantage point; there is very little cover beyond this area."

She then looked at Khalid, and they nodded in unison.

"Andout, stay here with Jase," said Khalid. He then turned to Dorean and Imoen. "We will draw its attention. Try to you get around behind it. Stay close together, keep your distance from us, and aim high, at its head. Jaheira and I will-"

"I say we sneak past it now, while its eatin'," Montaron interrupted. Khalid slowly turned his gaze upon the halfling.

"And leave it to prey upon another group?" said Jaheira.

"Ain't our problem," Montaron shrugged.

"You surprise me, Montaron," said Jaheira, her tone now mocking. "I thought that you would relish an opportunity to kill another living being."

Dorean inhaled sharply and Imoen bit her bottom lip. Montaron narrowed his eyes slightly, then smirked and raised his eyebrow. "I usually do, but we ain't got time fer that."

"Sneaking past it is not viable for us as a group. We simply are too many in number," said Jaheira. She then narrowed her eyes to slits. "But you have already considered this, haven't you?"

Montaron shrugged. "One'a us falls, distracts it, that's fine wit' me."

"Does that include your partner?" Jaheira pointed at Xzar with her staff.

"S'fine with him too," Montaron replied smoothly. Everyone else looked at Xzar, who simply nodded and gave the halfling an all-too-friendly smile. The dead squirrel was still hanging from his belt, and he had made no attempt to cease the blood dripping from its dagger-wound. it seemed that Xzar found it more amusing to display in front of Jaheira rather than stow it away in his pack.

Dorean looked back to Khalid and tensed when he noticed a muscle twitching in the man's jaw.

Khalid took a step towards Montaron, whose smirk immediately disappeared along with all emotion on his face, when an idea suddenly formed in Dorean's head.

"The two people who were with this dwarf, were they armed?" he said quickly.

Everyone turned to look at him.

"...n-n-no," said Khalid. "T-they were simple peasants."

Dorean lowered his head and stroked his beard, then began pacing back and forth.

"What are ya thinking of?" asked Imoen. Dorean stopped, looked up at her, then went over to her, eased Gorion's pack from her shoulders, deftly opened it and began rummaging through its contents.

The others all watched him silently, Xzar tilting his head and Montaron frowning as he scrutinized the dwarf.

"Here," said Dorean several seconds later. Holding it in both hands, he drew out a wide, sturdy belt and presented it to the group.

Imoen, Khalid and Jaheira's expressions immediately changed, and Imoen slowly reached out and took the item from Dorean.

"That is the Belt of Antipode," said Jaheira, her voice barely above a whisper.

"...Mister G used to wear this when he was showing us his ice spells," said Imoen, looking at the images of moons and ice floes engraved into the belt. "He said it protects him from his own magic...and that it also keeps him warm when it's cold."

Dorean slowly moved his eyes to Xzar; the wizard's head was now lowered, and he too was staring at the belt. Despite the dwarf's low-light vision, the man's long, wild hair made it near-impossible to make out his expression.

"Y-you wish to b-bargain with the ogre?" said Khalid. The dwarf blinked and quickly away from Xzar to him.

"I do not agree with this," said Jaheira, her voice suddenly firm and more than a little angry. "You are proposing that we give his...that, to that _brute_?"

"You said it yourself; there is a way to convince it to let others through."

"No. I will not have it," said Jaheira, tightening her lips and glaring piercingly at the dwarf.

Dorean paused, then looked up at Imoen's face for a moment before slowly walking past her towards Jaheira. "The important thing right now is for all of us to get to Beregost safely," he said softly and calmly. "All of us," he added, glancing at Montaron who was still watching him intently. Dorean then paused, looking up into Jaheira's eyes. "I am sure Father will understand."

"You are sure," said Jaheira, her tone now derisive and sneering.

"Jaheira..." Khalid said quietly from beside her. The woman's shoulders trembled very slightly as she looked down at the dwarf standing before her.

Forcing himself not to blink, Dorean continued to match her gaze. He breathed in and out deeply, causing his beard to flutter slightly.

"Let me do the talking, and if I fail...I will leave it to you."

There was silence for a long moment as the others watched Dorean and Jaheira. Then Jaheira slowly lifted her head, her gaze still on the dwarf.

"Andout. Jase."

"Y...yes?" said Andout.

"Keep behind me and Khalid. If it goes bad," she paused, still looking at Dorean. "Stay low and keep back as far as you can."

"I...yes, ma'am."

"Good," said Jaheira. "Well then," she added, looming over Dorean. "Your move."

Resisting the urge to blink, Dorean nodded, then turned around and walked back to Imoen. They both looked at the belt in her hands, and Dorean hesitated, staring at the engraved symbols on it.

Then, as he made to move past her, she stopped him with a hand across his face and onto his far shoulder.

"Little brother...are you sure about this?" she whispered, barely moving her lips.

He paused for a long moment, looking up into her eyes, then looked away and gently pushed her arm aside.

As he led the party out from under the trees, from somewhere close and far away, he heard the ringing laughter of Flannery's bandits, and his eyes narrowed into slits as he slowly and silently grinded his teeth behind his beard.

 _We are **not** spending another night in the wilderness._

..

* * *

If Montaron had any objections, he chose not to voice them; instead, he silently obeyed Dorean's instructions to the party to all stand in one line next to each other. Imoen ended up in the middle between Xzar and Khalid, a pink-clad barrier between the Zhents and the rest of the group.

With Dorean leading the way, they headed directly for the ogre's position.

The creature froze and straightened as soon as they came into view. For a moment, it simply stared at them, its beady eyes blinking in surprise at the eight people marching straight towards it. Then with a guttural, rumbling growl, it dropped the half-eaten human leg, lumbered to its feet, hefting an enormous stone hatchet in one hand.

"Hold, mighty one!" called the leading and smallest one of the group. The ogre stopped in mid-step with the hatchet raised over its head. "We come in friendship!"

The group stopped. So did the ogre, staring in bewilderment at nobody drawing their weapons, charging, or running away.

"Hail and well-met, mighty one," said the smallest one. Squinting at its beard, the ogre vaguely recognized it as a dwarf. "It is an honour to meet you. I am Dorn, and these are my fellow travellers. What is your name, mighty one?"

The ogre paused, then slowly lowered its hatchet, its bewildered expression now laced with puzzlement.

"...Og," it heard itself speak.

"Og the Mighty," said the dwarf, bowing low. "We thank you, for keeping this area safe. No monster or bandit would now dare prey on your land."

The ogre's eyes went from the dwarf and swept across the other figures. They lingered on Xzar and Montaron and then narrowed.

"Talky-dwarf trying to trick Og!" it suddenly bellowed. "Og not trust Talky-dwarf! Og will crush you! Crush you to-"

"This is no trick, O Mighty Og!" shouted the dwarf, raising his arms up high. The ogre stopped and dumbly lowered its hatchet again. "We did not come with empty words of thanks and praise; we came bearing tribute."

Keeping the ogre in his peripheral vision, Dorean turned and nodded to Imoen. She blinked at him, looked at the ogre, then gave what she hoped was a warm, friendly smile and handed her roommate the belt. The ogre immediately went still, beady eyes shining as they locked onto the item.

"We were told that you place these in high value," said Dorean. "Please accept this as a sign of our gratitude to you, for all that you have done to keep this region safe."

The ogre paused, looking from the belt to Dorean to the other travellers and to the belt again.

It watched as the talkative dwarf reverently placed the belt on the ground, stepped backwards, bowed, then turned and walked away. The others looked at him and then at the ogre before following him.

Jaheira hesitated for a moment, looking at the belt, before Khalid placed a hand under her elbow and steered away gently but firmly away.

The party walked quickly away from the ogre, shooting glances at it over their shoulders. It watched them quietly for a moment before lumbering over to the belt, picking it up with a thumb and forefinger and examining it, then staring at them again, its expression still confused and puzzled.

"I...I can't believe that worked," Andout breathed once they were out of sight.

"N-neither d-do I," said Khalid. "T-that was incredible, Dorean."

"Shoulda been a bard wit' a mouth like that," Montaron commented.

Jaheira wordlessly marched past all of them, back straightened and staring straight ahead. Imoen watched her go, then moved up beside Dorean.

She blinked once, looking down at the face hidden beneath a lowered hood and beard, then slowly reached over and took his hand, giving it a light squeeze. He did not squeeze back, but did not make her relinquish her grip on it.

Looking away from her, Dorean then glanced to his right.

Xzar was now making wide strides across the grass, his hands once again clasped behind his back and below his pack. His head was tilted up to the night sky, allowing his hair to fall away from his face.

The wizard began to hum softly to himself, and this time Dorean recognized the song.

 _The Wizards' Tune._

His gray eyes lingered on the small, strange smile etched on Xzar's face. Glancing sideways at him, the man's smile deepened as he carried on humming.

Behind them, supporting a near-exhausted Jase between himself and Andout, Khalid looked from Xzar to Dorean and Imoen and then back to Xzar again. His eye-lids narrowed and jaw tightened.

Glancing at the Calishite, Montaron's eyes went to Dorean and Imoen holding hands and walking side-by-side, and he turned his head slightly to hide his smirk from Andout.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Beregost almost made for a perfect image of the quintessential bustling trading town, were it not for one particular detail.

"That was not there the last time I was here," said Andout.

"When was that, exactly?" asked Jaheira, her head slowly moving from left to right as she surveyed the wooden palisade around the town. Andout sent a look of uncertainty her way before replying.

"About three months ago."

The party stood on the hill in silence for a moment, looking down onto the town. Dorean narrowed his eyes at the armed men stationed along the palisade's perimeter.

 _Not even close to being finished, and there aren't nearly enough of them to cover all the openings. I should be able to get in unnoticed._ He then let out an audible sigh, glancing at Jaheira and Montaron. _Unfortunately..._

"I have to be getting to the temple with all haste," said Andout. He paused and looked down at the person half-leaning against his shoulder. "You should come with me, Jase."

The boy looked up at the messenger with drooped eyelids, seemingly only half-hearing him. He looked around listlessly at the others, his gaze lingering on Imoen, before looking back at Andout and slowly nodding.

"Would you like us to come with you?" said Dorean, inclining his head at Jase. Andout hesitated, then opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Jaheira.

"We have pressing business of our own. Unless you require assistance with him..."

"N-no, no, I can manage," replied Andout quickly, shooting nervous looks at Montaron and Dorean. The dwarf did not turn away, carefully maintaining his expression.

 _He recognized me._

Giving what he clearly hoped was a reassuring smile to Jase, Andout then turned to Khalid and Jaheira.

"Thank you," he said. "All of you," he added, looking at Imoen and Dorea while avoiding Xzar and Montaron's eyes. Dorean's eyebrows rose when Khalid stepped forward and pressed an entire coin pouch into the messenger's hand.

Dumbfounded, Andout looked from the pouch to Khalid, his mouth opening and then closing as words failed him. The half-elf simply smiled at them both and stepped back. Noticing Dorean, Imoen, Xzar and Montaron staring at him, he quickly lowered his head almost in embarrassment.

 _He just made a friend,_ thought Dorean, lowering his own head to hide his expression. _Perhaps that is what he wanted._

He sneaked a glance at Jaheira; the woman had folded her arms and was shaking her head at her husband, though with his low-light vision, Dorean easily spotted the small smile on her face.

 _Strange,_ he thought, remembering her ousting Xzar and Montaron that afternoon as Zentarim SOG operatives. _Feels like the first real smile I've seen from her._

Imoen walked up to Jase and deposited an entire handful of berries into his hands. As Jaheira frowned and checked her pack, the pink girl gave Jase a warm smile and suddenly hugged him.

"Don't be a stranger, okay?"

"...okay," said Jase, now sounding more numb than tired.

They watched Andout and Jase out of sight, the latter returning Imoen's wave. Andout briefly glanced in Dorean's direction before disappearing with Jase over the crest of the hill.

 _He definitely recognized me,_ thought the dwarf bitterly. _But there's nothing I can do about it._ His gray eyes narrowed. _At least for now._

"Monty?" said Imoen, looking in the other direction from where Andout and Jase had left. Khalid and Jaheira, surprised that they have not heard his footsteps, immediately turned to watch the halfling walking west, parallel to the northern palisade.

"Where are you going?" Imoen called. When no answer came, she looked at Xzar.

"Oh, don't mind him," said the wizard. "He's just going to meet his handler. Monty! Tell her I said hello!"

Montaron did not stop, though he briefly slowed down before resuming his departure.

"You are not joining him?" said Jaheira, keeping her eyes on Montaron's retreating back. Xzar gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes.

"I said _his_ handler, not _ours._ Honestly, Madam Harpy," he placed his hands on his hips. "Make up your mind, would you please? Do you want us both to leave, or don't you?"

Jaheira stared at him in silence for a moment.

"That was impressive work, Dorean."

The dwarf blinked before slowly looking up at her.

"What you did with the ogre," Jaheira added, still keeping her gaze on Xzar.

"...thank you," Dorean said cautiously.

Jaheira then slowly turned away and began walking straight towards the town. Khalid hesitated, watching her, then turned to Dorean and Imoen and gestured with his head for them to follow. As they walked past him to follow Jaheira, the Calishite momentarily looked at Xzar, his expression blank, before turning to follow them.

..

* * *

"Stay close behind me," said Jaheira without looking around.

Resisting the temptation to pull his hood further over his face, Dorean quickened his pace to move up behind her. Glancing behind him, he suppressed a groan upon seeing that Xzar was still with them. With his unnaturally-shiny green eyes, long, wild hair and just his overall demeanour, the wizard was the very definition of 'suspicious'.

He turned to look back at the two guards leaning against both sides of the palisade opening.

 _Unkempt, unshaven, bad postures, no armour._ He blinked. _And sticks with daggers tied to the end._

The guards did not see them until they came close enough to be illuminated by the light of the lanterns hanging from poles above the palisade. They both then quickly moved to block their way.

"Pardon me," said the skinnier and shorter of the two guards. His companion sharply nudged him. "I mean, halt!" he called, hurriedly thrusting his arm out. "In the name of the Beregost militia!" He paused. "Did I get that right?"

Shoving him aside, the other guard stepped forward, fixing the party with an unfriendly sneer. Dorean raised his head very slightly to scan the man's features and was immediately reminded of Hull.

 _Bloodshot eyes, week-old stubble, beer belly._ His eyes went to the other guard and he blinked upon seeing the long, thin face and physique. _Hull and Fuller are the archetypical amateur pair-a-guards, it seems._

Not-Hull stepped forward, idly scratching his chin-stubble. "Wha've we got here, eh? Who are yez an'...wha' is yer purpose fer comin' into our town?" he said slowly, as though rehearsing the words from memory.

"We are here on business from Baldur's Gate," replied Jaheira, her tone crisp and formal.

"What kinda business?"

"The kind that is none of your concern, townsman," replied Jaheira smoothly, raising her chin.

"Humph," he replied, the scepticism clear in his voice. "From the city, eh? Ain't you an elf or somethin'?"

"Or something," answered Jaheira, her tone and expression completely neutral.

"No' jus' an elf, but a _foreign_ elf," the guard went on, as though he had not heard her. "An' ye were here on business, eh? Nah, nah, nah," He shook his head slowly, leering at her and exposing his yellowed teeth. "Yez seem like a bandit ta me. A bandit spy, I reckon? Or mayhaps an as-sass...as-sass..."

"Assassin?" said Imoen. Khalid looked at her, and Dorean barely managed to stop himself from elbowing his roommate in the thigh. Jaheira did not move, facing straight ahead.

"Tha's right," said Not-Hull, looking pleased with himself.

"They don't look like assassins to me," said the other guard, looking at Imoen who absent-mindedly gave him a smile and a small wave. Dorean glanced sideways at her in exasperation.

"I says they looks ta be as-sass...a-ssass...killin'-fer-gold-folks," Not-Hull retorted. Dorean's eyes went to the half-full water-skin at his hip. The man's words were slurring now; he had clearly been drinking. "They looks like killers ta me, carryin' all them weapons. I reckon we should search 'em, see what they might be hidin'."

"If that is what you believe us to be, then go ahead and conduct your search," said Jaheira, her voice now sharp enough to cut glass. "Or better yet, arrest us."

The militia guards leaned backwards, exchanging looks of surprise. Not-Hull looked back at Jaheira, narrowed his blood-shot eyes, attempted to stand up straight and puff out his chest, which only made his beer-belly more prominent, and opened his mouth to speak when Jaheira interrupted him.

"My husband and I are known to your governor, Kelddath Ormlyr. What do you think he would do if he learns that two of his associates were arrested and detained without due cause?" said Jaheira, her voice becoming dangerously _sweet_.

The guards blinked repeatedly and looked at each other again. Not-Hull, either out of anger or determination, rounded on Dorean and Imoen.

"What about them, eh? They friends of the gov'nor too? Or involved in secret business from the city as well?"

Imoen looked down at Dorean and tensed upon seeing his left hand slowly drifting towards the folds of his shirt.

"They are my children," said Jaheira.

Dorean and Imoen blinked and stared at her. Fortunately, the guards did as well, missing their reactions.

"Now, are you going to let us through, arrest us, or stand here gawking at us until the sun comes up?" Jaheira added, planting her quarterstaff on the ground and leaning on it.

Not-Fuller opened his mouth, closed it, then looked at Not-Hull and shook his head. His lower jaw trembling, Not-Hull gave Khalid and Jaheira a dirty look before grudgingly stepping aside.

"I'll be askin' the gov'nor 'bout ye," he said threateningly.

"You do that," said Jaheira. She strode past the guard without another glance at him. Dorean hurried after her, staying close behind the half-elf.

"E-enjoy your stay in Beregost," said the other guard, bowing to the Harpers and then scrunching up his nose as Dorean passed by him.

Dorean waited until they were almost out of sight before speaking to Jaheira. "Thank you."

"Yeah, thanks, Mom," said Imoen from beside Khalid. Jaheira did not reply, though Dorean noticed a brief linger in her step before she shook her head and continued to lead them away from the wall. Imoen then looked behind her.

"Hey, where's-"

They turned a corner and Jaheira nearly walked into Xzar, who was standing just around it with his hands clasped behind his back. She went very still, her back ramrod straight and the hand not clutching her quarterstaff clenching into a fist. Then, after a long, drawn out breath, she silently strode past him.

Khalid, who seemed to have decided that the best course of action for now is to simply ignore the madman, placed himself behind Dorean and Imoen, practically herding them past the wizard.

As Xzar fell into his usual position at the rear of the group, Dorean kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, hoping that nobody could hear his thundering heartbeat.

 _He was with us only a minute ago. How did he get in front of us?_

"D'you really know Kelddath?" asked Imoen, moving up next to Jaheira.

"Yes. Khalid and I have aided him on a few occasions. Do not be concerned, child."

"Oh, I ain't worried," said Imoen lightly. "Just wondering what he's like. I wrote a letter to him once."

Jaheira stared at her for a moment before walking ahead. Noticing that Khalid was looking at her as well, Imoen shrugged good-naturedly and fell back beside Dorean, then looked down to see him staring up at her. "What?"

He continued to stare at her.

"What?"

He maintained the stare. Imoen pouted, then let out an exasperated snort.

"Fine. But he still owes me."

Rolling his eyes at her, Dorean then fell back beside Khalid.

"I didn't know that Beregost has a militia. Don't the temple guards police the town?"

"They u-usually do," replied the half-elf. "S-something has ch-changed here."

There were not many people about despite the night still being relatively young. Reactions upon noticing them were mixed; people either hurried past without making eye contact, or stared at them with open curiosity or suspicion.

A small girl began to follow them, reaching out to touch Xzar's cloak, when her mother hurried her away, shooting nervous looks at Xzar who stopped and watched them out of sight.

Thankfully, they encountered no patrolling guardsmen, and soon Jaheira stopped at the front gate leading to a large three-story building.

"Ah, Feldepost's!" said Imoen, reading the wooden-block letters on a signboard at the top of the gate. "Cheese and cucumber buns!" Her bright expression slightly dimmed. "Would be nicer if we went to the Juggler instead, though."

"You need food and rest, child, not merriment," said Jaheira. Imoen matched the half-elf's frown with one of her own, planting her hands on her hips. The half-elf stared back at her for a moment before giving a loud exhale of disapproval. "But if you still wish it in the morning, however-" She stopped speaking as a woman reeking heavily of perfume sauntered up to Khalid.

"Good evening, m'lord. Would you be-"

She froze upon seeing Jaheira's expression, and her eyes darted around the party. Spotting Xzar in the back, she turned away from the half-elves, but her attempted smile died halfway once she got a better look at him.

"Xzar, we need to do something about that squirrel," said Imoen.

"Hmm?" said Xzar, looking from the courtesan hurrying away from them to the carcass hanging from his belt. He blinked when Imoen walked up to him, took the squirrel, and then went over to Dorean and opened his pack.

"I didn't say I'd agree to this," muttered the dwarf, though he did not attempt to stop her.

"Oh, pipe down, you smell terrible anyway."

His beard bristling, Dorean stood still as Imoen shoved the dead squirrel into his pack, grumbling under his breath. Jaheira watched them for a moment before exchanging a look with Khalid.

"Unlike the other inns in this town, the usual clientele for this one is the elderly and people wishing for a quiet evening. You should be safe here."

Dorean looked up at her. "You're not coming in with us?"

"I have business to attend to," Jaheira replied curtly. "I will return when I can." She then handed a large coin pouch to Khalid, briefly touched his elbow, and then marched off.

Dorean's expression grew cold upon seeing the elbow-touch. _Was that a signal?_

"A bit wound-up, isn't she?" said Imoen, watching Jaheira's receding back. Khalid winced and shook his head at her. "Ooh, right," she replied, lowering her voice. "Elven hearing. Sorry."

Dorean looked up at Khalid, noting the man's briefly forlorn expression before he then turned to Dorean and Imoen and nodded politely to them.

"Just act casual," Xzar said serenely. "Try not to look nervous."

"I am calm, Xzar," replied Dorean, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice.

"Oh, not you. I was talking to him," the wizard replied, gesturing with his head at the half-elf. Khalid simply stared quietly at Xzar before turning around to approach the inn's front door.

Dorean hesitated, glancing back in the direction where Jaheira had left. The memory of her confronting him at the Friendly Arm came to his mind, and a chill ran down his short spine.

 _Is she going after Montaron?_

He breathed deeply, in and out, before turning away to join the others.

As Khalid opened the door, Dorean moved close beside Imoen and reached for her hand before stopping himself.

 _I need to tell her if she is. Before all hell breaks loose._

Feeling Xzar's eyes on him, he waited for Imoen to go in before moving past the man and through the door.

..

* * *

When the noise level inside dropped in volume and numerous faces turned to look at them, Dorean cursed Jaheira under his breath.

 _I wonder if she did this on purpose._

"'Ere now, get out! I don't like yer type in here!" someone yelled from across the room.

"Heh, you tell 'em, Marl," replied an equally loud though slightly less belligerent voice.

 _So much for an old and peaceful clientele_ , thought Dorean, observing the two hecklers from the corner of his eye.

"W-well...c-c-come along, then," said Khalid. Swallowing and keeping his head down, the half-elf led them along the wall to a bar next to a doorway which, from the smells emanating from it, Dorean deduced led to the kitchens. "G-g-good evening," said Khalid to the portly middle-aged man behind it, giving a nervous half-nod. "Am I s-speaking to the owner?"

"That will be my wife, sir. I jus' tend the bar, mostly." He cast a furtive glance around at the still-staring faces of his clientele, and his face scrunched up as he caught a whiff of the odour emanating from the dwarf. "I am sorry to say this, but we're all full up. Have been for the last three weeks."

Dorean quietly grinded his teeth. _Not this again._

"I could offer you folks some drinks, but-"

Khalid placed a handful of coins on the bar. The bartender hesitated, looking from them to Khalid.

"Look, I am very sorry, but we really don't have any-"

Khalid put down more coins. The bartender's mouth opened and then shut as a third handful was added to the pile. He looked at the half-elf, who simply stood there quietly, looking back at him. After a moment, he quickly scooped the coins into his apron pocket and furtively slid a key across the bar.

"I hope you enjoy your stay here in Feldepost's, sir." He glanced down at Dorean, then leaned in close to Khalid and cupped his hand to his mouth. "And if you don't me mind saying so, your friend could _really_ use a bath."

Apparently, the bartender's hearing had waned with his age, for the entire group and at least a few nearby tables heard him perfectly. Dorean frowned, then closed his eyes and lowered his head.

 _At least he didn't recognize me as a wanted man._ He opened his eyes. _Hopefully._

He blinked as Imoen took his hand and practically dragged him towards the stairs.

"C'mon, little brother. Let's get ya cleaned up."

Unable to hide his smile, Khalid followed the duo as Dorean struggled to keep up with the eager pink-clad girl.

Xzar blinked quietly, watching Dorean and Imoen, before slowly moving to follow them.

He slowed upon placing his foot on the first step, taking his time in climbing up the stairs.

Moving only his eyes, he glanced out of the corner of them to his left.

Seated at the far end of the common room was a slight and slender woman with dusky brown skin, wearing a modest albeit finely-made dress. Her head was turned to the side, her long, silky hair masking her face as she conversed with another woman seated next to her.

Xzar's eyes narrowed as he climbed the stairs and disappeared from view of the common room, and they focused on Khalid's back as he followed the trio down the hallway.

..

* * *

The moment Khalid unlocked the door, Imoen entered the room, pulling along with her a dwarf who then finally managed to detach her hand from his. The pink-clad girl hopped into the bathroom, then hopped back out and placed her hands on her hips.

"Right then, little brother. It's time for your bath." She went behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders. Instead of protesting as both Khalid and Xzar expected, Dorean quietly allowed himself to be steered towards the bathroom.

"I'll try to be quick, but bathing this one takes time," Imoen said apologetically yet cheerfully to Khalid and Xzar over her shoulder. "You two can head downstairs and start dinner ahead of us if ya want."

Entering the bathroom with the dwarf, she then pushed the door shut with her foot.

Khalid and Xzar stood still for a moment, looking at the door, before their heads turned to face each other. Then, without taking his eyes off the wizard, Khalid sat down on one of the several beds in the room, directly facing the man. He placed his hands on his knees and continued to stare back at Xzar, his expression blank.

"Going to wait for them?" asked Xzar.

Khalid did not reply.

"Not heading downstairs first?"

Again the half-elf did not speak.

A smirk slowly eased its way onto Xzar's face, and he folded his arms, looking from Khalid to the bathroom door.

"Rather friendly with you today, wasn't he?" His eyes lowered to half-lids, and the smirk became a full-on smile as he looked back to Khalid. "Did you notice it too?"

When no answer came, the wizard raised an eyebrow and then, still smiling, turned to fully face Khalid.

"He brought his weapons in there."

Khalid remained silent. He continued to watch Xzar, his expression carefully blank and one hand resting idly on the pommel of his sword.

..

* * *

Imoen sat up straight in the tub and reached out with both arms. "I'm right here, little brother."

"Okay. Just...give me time."

Dorean stood in front of the tub, fully clothed aside from his gloves and boots. Trying not to stare at the water, he closed his eyes and, after a few long, deep breaths, climbed up onto the tub's edge. Then, still keeping his eyes shut, he lowered himself into the water with his back to her, and his breathing became louder and more erratic as he sank into it up to his neck.

Imoen shuffled up behind him and placed her arms around his midsection. She gently rubbed his chest, feeling the dwarf's rapid heartbeat gradually slow down until he was merely breathing heavily through his nose.

After a moment, she removed his hair pins, causing his hair bun to unravel, and placed them carefully on the side of the tub. Then, ignoring the bucket on the floor next to it, she cupped her hands, using them to scoop and pour water onto his head. The dwarf's eyes remained closed, and despite the initial convulsing having worn off, his body continued to shake.

For a few minutes, there was silence in the bathroom aside from Imoen wetting and then soaping Dorean's hair.

"Was it true? What Montaron said?" she asked softly.

His eyes opened very slightly, carefully avoiding the water and focusing on the opposite wall. Dorean then quietly told her of the scouting mission earlier that day. He left out delaying his return down the hill to speak to the dying Greger.

Imoen was quiet for a moment, her hands resting on his shoulders.

"And Montaron made you go up there alone." She paused, and Dorean winced as her fingers dug slightly into his skin. "Why did you agree to that?"

The dwarf closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "Imoen...I don't think you're taking our situation as seriously as you should be. The people we're travelling with, I mean."

She stopped lathering his hair, leaning to the side to look at his face.

"In fact," Dorean went on, his eyes narrowing at the wall. "For all we know, it may already be happening."

Her eyes widened. "You think Jaheira's..."

"She tracked me down, didn't she?"

Imoen was quiet for a long moment. Then she slowly began to rinse his hair. "What d'you think we should do about it?"

"I don't know. Just...stay close, alright? As often as you can. I don't want either of us to be caught in the middle when it happens."

Imoen stared sadly down at the top of Dorean's head, then abruptly brought her lips to it and hugged him from behind. He blinked, his expression unchanging, staring up at the opposite wall.

"Little brother?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for the arrows."

"...you're welcome."

It was only when he was out of the tub and changing out of his soaked clothes that he realized he had stopped shaking mid-way through the bath.

..

* * *

Heaving a loud sigh, Firebead Elvenhair placed the book down on the bed next to him, then rolled onto his side to stare into the flame of the lit candle on the bedside table. He looked briefly at the tankard next to it which, only a short while ago, had been filled to the brim with warm milk. Despite all his best efforts, sleep had refused to come to him. The old mage sighed again and closed his eyes.

They snapped open as the sound of an audible creak from the living room downstairs reached his ears.

He immediately got out of bed, grabbed and put on his green-gold robes from the hook on the wall, then looked up at his bedroom door, his expression now grim. After casting a few protection spells along with Infravision over himself as quietly as he could, he crept to the door and turned the knob, opening it without a sound.

Slowly, taking one step every three seconds, Firebead moved down the stairs into his living room. His eyes immediately focused on the open window in the far wall, and he stopped at the foot of the stairs, standing tall with his hands loose at his sides.

"If you are a thief, there is naught here to steal but old books," he said out loud. "However," he added, his voice becoming low and quiet. "If you are here to do an old man harm, I shall not make it easy for you."

The next few minutes passed in total silence. Then, with one last sweep of his eyes over the empty living room, Firebead raised his hand towards the window. It swung closed, the lock sliding back into place.

He went back upstairs at half the pace from before and stepped through his open bedroom door.

He blinked as he entered the dark room, and in the two seconds it took him to realize that he had not put out the candle, something reached around from behind the door and grabbed him by his wrist.

His head snapped in its direction, and his eyes widened as a wad of cloth was forced into his mouth. Before he could even blink in response, he felt a sharp, hard blow to his shin, and his leg immediately gave way. As his back thudded against the floor, he felt the intruder swiftly take hold of his hands and bind them together.

A cold sweat broke out on his forehead as the realization fell on him; he was now utterly helpless.

He heard the intruder move, and his eyes widened as its face loomed into view.

"Hello, Firebead," said Jaheira. "You and me are going to have a talk."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

She reached down, grasped the hem of his robe, and dragged him one-handed across the floor to the end of the bed. Removing another length of rope, Jaheira lifted his arms and began to lash his already-bound wrists to the bed-post.

"Do you remember the last time I was here, Firebead?"

The old man looked up at her pleadingly, struggling to speak through the gag.

"It was three years ago. Khalid and I were going to Waterdeep. You invited us over."

Her voice was calm, yet tinged with barely restrained fury. Satisfied that she had secured his wrists, Jaheira then removed a length of string and began binding his fingers together.

"We asked you if you had found something, anything, no matter how slight or unlikely, that may give us a lead to his whereabouts. And you said..." He flinched and closed his eyes as she tightened the string. "That you had not seen or heard a thing. That you hadn't the _slightest idea_ where he might be."

Firebead opened his eyes to see Jaheira still in her kneeling position, her face barely illuminated by the faint moonlight through the far window. She was not looking at him, but at the opposite wall.

"Imagine. My surprise. When I spoke to someone. And he told me. That Gorion had been in Candlekeep for the past. Twenty. Years." She slowly stood up, turning her head towards the ceiling. "Twenty years."

A deadly silence fell on the room. The only thing Firebead could hear was his own heartbeat and muffled breathing.

"Look at me, Firebead."

Breathing rapidly, the old wizard raised his head. The half of Jaheira's face that he could see was deathly stolid. Dread crept up his legs and spine.

"If you lie to me, I will hurt you."

She paused, then abruptly reached down and removed the gag. Firebead immediately went into a coughing fit, his chin pressed against his heaving chest.

"Jaheira, I was under a geas. I _wanted_ to tell you, but I couldn't. He _forced_ it on me, he gave me no choice!"

Five long seconds went by. Then, still trying to control his breathing, Firebead raised his head again. Jaheira stood very still, her head facing the opposite wall and only her eyes focused on the man at her feet. Then, very slowly, she turned away, walked to the end of the room, stopped when she reached the wall, stared at it for a full ten seconds, then walked back.

"Candlekeep. Two days ago. Were you there?"

"Yes, yes, I was," replied Firebead, his head bobbing up and down.

"Tell me everything."

He lowered his head and closed his eyes. After a long, deep breath, he slowly and softly began to speak.

"It was a few hours after sundown. I was in the library when the Watchers started rounding up everyone. Visitors, residents, servants. They took us all to the ground floor, then announced that there had been a murder and we were all to be questioned and searched."

Jaheira's eyebrows lowered, and she slowly unclenched her fist. "A murder."

Firebead closed his eyes and shook his head. "A hired bodyguard to one of the visitors." He paused, then looked up at her. "I did not learn of it until later."

Jaheira hesitated, then nodded.

"We were all still being questioned a few hours later. That's when...when I felt it. The geas lifting." Firebead went silent, looking away to the side and avoiding Jaheira's gaze.

"Keep talking," she said quietly, remaining very still.

"I wanted to leave right away, to learn what had happened. If he had lifted it on his own, or..." Firebead gave a fleeting glance at Jaheira before lowering his eyes to the floor. "But the place was still in lockdown. I could not get away. Ja...Jaheira, is this really necessary?" he added, trying and failing to wriggle his increasingly numb fingers.

Jaheira's only response was to blink. Otherwise, she continued to resemble a statue. Briefly closing his eyes, Firebead took another long, deep breath.

"They kept us up through the night, questioning us again, taking down our statements, keeping us in place while they searched our rooms. We weren't pleased, but Ulraunt was having none of it. I later found out why. Then, late the next morning...Elminster came."

Jaheira moved for the first time in minutes, lowering her head slightly to focus further on Firebead.

"He walked right up to me, greeted me warmly, then told the Watchers that Tethtoril had granted permission to let me go." Firebead closed his eyes and shook his head again. "I barely had time to gather my things - they turned my room inside out - before he took me with him right out of Candlekeep." He looked up at Jaheira. "He then told me what he had learned before he came to fetch me; the victim was found in one of the storehouses. No one is certain of why he was there, but Tethtoril believes it was self-defence judging from the man's wounds." Firebead then hesitated and looked away. "I said I needed to see Gorion and...Elminster told me that he had died the night before. Killed in an ambush." He paused for a long time, eyes closed and head turned to the side. "There was a grave made for him in a forest clearing. He took me to it." He paused again. "I am sorry, Jaheira."

After a moment, Jaheira slowly turned away and began to pace the room once more. "What happened next?" she asked, her voice barely audible. Firebead hesitated, glancing at her; the woman's expression was near-impossible to make out in the dark.

"I asked him what had happened, and he told me that from what he had deduced; Gorion's ward, Dorean, was attacked in the storehouse. After killing his assailant, he went and told Gorion, then left Candlekeep with him immediately afterwards. They diverted their course into the woods after something happened on the road, and..." He trailed off, closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and continued speaking. "Dorean had a roommate. Imoen. They grew up together. She...followed them." He paused. "Elminster met them on the road. Travelling with two people who are very likely Zhentarim operatives." Firebead went silent for a long moment. "I asked him _why_ he did not stop to help them, and he suddenly started deflecting all of my questions. He seemed...concerned, about something. Agitated, even." Firebead paused in thought, then looked up at Jaheira. "He never mentioned you. Or Khalid."

When Jaheira did not reply, Firebead closed his eyes and took another deep breath, wincing at the increasing numbness in his hands and wrists. "We parted ways soon afterwards. He went north, to Baldur's Gate." He looked up. "That is all I know."

She gazed down at him, then once again walked to the other end of the room. Stopping a single pace from the wall, Jaheira folded her arms across her chest. Lowering her head and closing her eyes, She slowly inhaled and exhaled, her shoulders rising and falling. Firebead opened his mouth to speak and then stopped himself.

The next few minutes felt like hours; there was no sound in the room aside from Firebead instinctively trying to wriggle his bound fingers. Then, without turning around to face him, Jaheira spoke, her voice so low that he barely caught it.

"I want you to tell me everything. All of it, from the beginning."

"Could...could you loosen these ropes first? I can't feel my hands."

"No. I know what you are capable of."

"Jaheira...don't you trust me?"

She slowly opened her eyes, narrowing them at the wall in front of her.

"That will depend on you."

..

* * *

Ignoring the furtive, suspicious glares from a passing couple, Montaron pushed open the wooden gate and strode up to the house's front door. He raised a fist to knock, but before he could, the door was flung open, a tiny hand grabbed hold of his shirt, and he was pulled inside by a short, mousy woman. She hurriedly closed and locked the door, then pushed a strategically-placed cupboard in front of it. The woman then scurried around the room, her messy, shoulder-length auburn hair trailing behind her as she peered through the windows and checked their locks before racing upstairs to do the same. She returned about a minute later, immediately and furiously rounding on Montaron who had been idly standing by watching her solidify his image of her as a panicking mouse.

"Are you _trying_ to get us killed!?"

Montaron replied with a bored expression, which only made her angrier.

"Harpers. _Harpers._ "

He shrugged nonchalantly and turned away. "Ain't the first time."

"And that one turned out so well for both of us!" she shouted, throwing her arms up. Montaron ignored her, placing his pack down on the floor. He then looked around the living room.

"There anythin' to eat in here?"

"What in the Green Goddess' name are you _doing!?"_

"Ye should keep it down," the halfling replied, his voice suddenly becoming dangerously low. The woman hesitated, then lowered her arms and took a long, deep breath.

"There's some cheese and bread in there," she said grudgingly, jerking a thumb at a nearby cupboard. Grunting, Montaron opened it and removed the aforementioned contents along with a wine bottle, hopped nimbly onto a chair while carrying all three, and immediately began his meal.

Several minutes passed with him silently eating and ignoring her pointed glare. She then sighed and sat down across from him, placing an elbow on the table and resting her cheek on the hand.

"I should have known that you'll cause more trouble for me."

Montaron did not answer. He continued to chew his mouthful of bread. She looked away from him and shook her head.

"You said you were going to watch out for his daughter." She brought her hands together, lowering her face into them. "You never mentioned anything about _working with Harpers_."

"Didn't know," he replied calmly.

"They made you, did they?" she said from behind her hands.

He grunted in response. She gave a long, drawn-out groan.

"Nice place ye got here," said Montaron, looking briefly around the living room before returning to his meal. "What're ye callin' yerself now?"

"I am now Marianne of Baldur's Gate," came the tired, miserable voice hidden behind the pair of small hands. Montaron raised an eyebrow, but made no comment.

"Where's the real one?"

"In the attic. Her husband won't be back for at least a few months."

"Hm."

Silence fell on the duo once again. After a moment, 'Marianne' lifted her head from her hands and stared straight at Montaron, her expression as tired and miserable as her voice.

"I will have to report this."

"Mm."

"If I don't, they'll find out anyway and want to know why I didn't."

"Mm."

She closed her eyes and sighed. "I hope you know what you're doing. Because if you don't, it's both our heads."

"Uh-huh." Finishing off his meal with a last swig of wine, Montaron gave his handler an expectant look. She paused, looking back at him, then got up from the table and went upstairs.

She returned a few minutes later and tossed a small pouch onto the table. When the halfling promptly took it and emptied out the contents, she bounded across the room and onto the table in a single leap, covering them with her hands.

Montaron growled irritably. "There's no one watching, I checked. Settle down."

She glared at him before standing up off the table. Rolling his eyes at her, the halfling proceeded to count and examine the gems. He then looked up and frowned at her.

"It's what I was given. We'll just have to hope he'll be satisfied with it."

He continued to frown at her. She glared back and folded her arms across her chest. "You tell them then, if you think it's not enough."

A moment passed. Montaron then huffed and swept the gems back into their pouch. He started to lift his head to face Marianne again and blinked when a letter was held out to him. He hesitated for a few seconds, then took it and slowly checked the seal.

Satisfied that it had not been broken or tampered with, Montaron made to put it away, but hesitated, staring quietly at the envelope. For a few seconds, his expression seemed to soften, and he was just a middle-aged halfling. Then it was gone, replaced by the usual lack of emotion, and he tucked the letter into his shirt.

"You're going to have to do something about those Harpers," Marianne said as he was getting off the chair. "You cannot just let them go when you're done with them."

"Ye need ta stop statin' the obvious," he replied without looking at her.

He had picked up his pack and was putting it on when Marianne spoke again.

"What about Xzar?"

He hesitated. "What about 'im?"

"I...I don't know." . She folded and rubbed her arms, radiating nervousness and uncertainty. "It's just...he's taken an interest in the girl and dwarf as well. What do you think?"

Montaron stood still, his head slightly lowered and his gaze fixed on the floor. After a moment, he silently shouldered his pack, turned away, and walked out through the door into the night.

..

* * *

"I told you to _get lost_."

The man apparently known as Marl stood at one end of their table, glowering down at the quartet seated before him.

On Marl's left, his nose scrunching up at the stink of alcohol, Dorean quickly cast his eyes over him. _No hidden weapons or armour._ His gaze lingered briefly on the man's arms and broad shoulders. _But he looks like a strong one._

The dwarf's gray eyes then snapped to his companions. To his left sat Khalid, who was now across from Marl and seemed to be the current focus of his ire. The half-elf's eyes were wide and darting, his jaw opening and closing as he fought a clearly losing struggle to find words.

Directly across the table from Dorean, Imoen was looking worriedly at the panicking middle-aged barmaid, seemingly oblivious or unconcerned with her group being the main target of Marl's drunken temper.

Next to Imoen and closest to Marl sat Xzar. The wizard had lowered his head to his chin as the local was approaching their table, so much so that Dorean could now barely see his face behind his hair.

The dwarf's gaze lingered on Xzar before he quickly returnined his attention to their latest bout of trouble.

"S-sir, wh-?" Khalid stuttered.

"Don't you call me 'sir'! Don't you dare patronize me!" said Marl, his voice growing louder with every word. "Condescend to me, will you? Think you're better than me 'cos you got a sword and armour?! Or is it 'cos you're an elf?! Is that it?! You think just 'cos your race is older than mine, you can come in here and do as you please?!"

Khalid's eyes continued to dart from side to side. He was clearly at a loss of what to do.

 _I need to say something._ "Calm down, man," Dorean said loudly. "We're not trying to-"

"Not trying to what, _dwarf?!_ " Marl yelled, rounding on him. "Think you'd come in here and show off all your gold for us poor folk to see, eh?!"

 _He's completely inebriate._ Dorean looked around the inn and cursed under his breath; the relief he had felt earlier at the lack of guards in the inn was now gone.

"Hey, look at me when I'm talking to you!" Marl shouted, pointing a finger inches from the dwarf's large nose. "I'm sick of your kind, always goin' on 'bout gems and treasures and temptin' us hard-workin' folk to go out into gods-know-where and get ourselves killed! I hate greedy little swine like you!"

"Don't call him that!" said Imoen, straightening in her seat and glaring up at Marl.

"Shut up!" Marl hollered, fixing Imoen with a hateful sneer. "Makin' good honest men do godsdamn stupid things just to impress a pretty face! Your lot are the worst of 'em all!"

Dorean's face slackened and relaxed, emotion draining rapidly from his face. It took him three whole seconds to realize that his left hand was now gripping the handle of his hidden belt knife.

"Get out!" Marl yelled, waving a burly arm at them. "Get out now, or by Chauntea, I will give you all a drubbing that you'll never-"

Without looking up, Xzar reached out with his left hand and took hold of Marl's wrist. The local froze for a second, looking down at it.

"Wha-?" His head turned to face the green-robed wizard sitting just to his right. "Get your-"

Xzar gave the wrist a small, light squeeze. There was a loud crash as Marl's knees buckled and he lurched forward onto the table. The barmaid gasped and backed away.

Khalid was on his feet in an instant, though he froze with his hand halfway to his sword, eyes darting from Marl to Xzar.

"ARRGGHH! LET-LET GO OF-" Marl tried to push himself off the table with his free hand and let out another strangled cry as Xzar lightly, almost gently gave his wrist another squeeze. There was a second crash as he fell forward onto the table again.

Surprised at his own lack of reaction, Dorean's eyes widened and then narrowed as they focused on the hand now gripping Marl's wrist. The dwarf blinked, then looked up and felt a chill run down his short spine. Xzar had lifted his head and was now staring directly at him.

Everything slowed to a crawl; Khalid standing up with his hand moving to his sword, Imoen leaping to her feet and turning towards Xzar, and the barmaid crying out at the sound of Marl hitting the table again and backing up so much that she was about to collide with a neighbouring table.

The entire world turned gray, with only Dorean and Xzar retaining their colours. The wizard's bright green eyes bored into the dwarf's, wide and searching and _yearning_.

He heard Imoen's voice, seemingly from far away. Dorean blinked, and the world instantly snapped back to normal.

"Xzar!"

Xzar blinked as well, his expression becoming perplexed, and looked up at Imoen.

"Let him go, you're hurting him!"

The wizard blinked again, looked at Marl whose eyes were now flowing with tears, then back up at Imoen.

"I mean it!" Imoen planted her hands on her hips and leaned forward, glaring down at Xzar. "Let him go right now, or you won't be getting any dinner!"

Khalid froze, staring at Imoen. So did Xzar, Dorean, Marl, the barmaid, and everyone else in the inn.

After a long moment, moving only his fingers, Xzar released Marl who then slowly crumbled from the table to the floor. Ignoring the mewling sounds at his feet, the wizard continued to stare at Imoen as she went over to Marl.

"You okay, mister?"

Dorean leaned sideways in his seat to look. The now-not-very-drunk local had fallen to his knees and was clutching his wrist. The dwarf's eyes narrowed upon seeing the slight bluish-tinge on the skin.

 _Was that a touch spell?_ He frowned, glancing at Xzar's hand. _But I didn't hear him cast..._

It took Marl a few minutes before he could even begin to rise off the floor. He stepped back from the table, cradling his wrist in his other hand and looking fearfully at Xzar who was still staring at Imoen and not paying the slightest bit of attention to him.

"You should go home, mister," said Imoen, giving him a reassuring pat on his left bicep.

Marl looked down at her, his eyes darting repeatedly to Xzar. He then gave a single quick nod and hurried away from them towards the inn entrance.

The silence following his departure was painfully heavy. Dorean did not have to look around to know that the entire inn was now staring at them. Imoen looked around, then returned to her seat and looked towards the barmaid.

"Sorry about that," Imoen said sheepishly. "Our friend here," she patted Xzar on the arm without looking at him. "He has a heart condition."

"...oh."

Their voices were uncomfortably loud in the now-quiet common room. Imoen gave a reassuring smile.

"He's usually very friendly," she said good-naturedly, stroking Xzar's arm in a manner that reminded Dorean of the way she used to pat the cats back in Candlekeep. "Just...please try not to make any loud, sudden noises." She then sat up straight, bringing her hands together and twiddling her thumbs. "So...can we order now?"

The barmaid hesitated, then nodded and went up to their table. She moved slowly and gingerly, shooting nervous glances at Xzar with every step.

As Imoen began ordering one of every dish on the menu, Dorean glanced furtively at Xzar; the wizard was still staring blankly at Imoen. The dwarf's gaze then went to Khalid, noting the grimace and cold glare directed at Xzar that was not unlike Jaheira's.

It was not long before the general hubbub returned to Feldepost's common room, though the noise level was now noticeably much lower, particularly at the tables close to the group's.

Khalid was distracted by Imoen taking it upon herself to order for the absent Jaheira. Thus, Dorean was the only one to notice Xzar's eyes suddenly narrow as they focused on and followed something across the room. The dwarf turned his head to his left, apparently to join in on Imoen and Khalid's conversation, swept a single eye across the common room, and spotted the brown-skinned woman climbing the stairs to the floor above.

His brow furrowing, Dorean quickly inserted himself into the order-for-Jaheira discussion when he realized that Xzar was now looking at him.

..

* * *

"You promised me, Eldoth!"

"Yes, my dear, but-"

"You promised to make an arrangement for me!"

"And I have done so, but-"

"Not in Amn! I mean now!"

There was a barely repressed sigh. "Skie, this is no place for your talents. It is too drab and small in scale."

"But I am _bored!_ How much _longer_ do I have to stay shut up like this?"

"Skie...you know how important it is that you-"

"Stay out of sight until we are past the border, I know," she replied dejectedly.

"It is too much of a risk to let you out in public, lest-"

"Lest I be recognized, I _know_. But...Eldoth...I am _bored!_ "

He pouted, leaning back and folding his arms across his chest. "I was not aware that you found my company so tedious, my lady."

Her eyes widened, and she hurried over to him, placing her hands on his folded forearms. "No, no, Eldoth, I did not mean that! It's just..."

"You are bored, yes. I have heard."

She lowered her head morosely. "I know that you are taking a big risk for me, and I am truly thankful..."

"Are you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I am!" she retorted, pinching his forearms. "Gods, why do you have to be so-"

"Disparaging? Baiting? Snide?" said an amused voice from behind them. Skie jumped, and Eldoth visibly flinched for a half-second before turning around to face the smirking woman leaning against the doorway.

"Safana," he greeted, giving a smile that to his credit only appeared to be very slightly forced. "I shall request once more than you knock before entering other people's rooms."

"But then they would notice me coming in," she replied smoothly. Their eyes met, and they exchanged all-too-pleasant smiles before she looked away to Skie. "Little sister..."

"Stop calling me that," she pouted, though only half-sheepishly.

"May I borrow Eldoth for a moment? I need to speak with him in private."

Skie blinked. "What...what about?"

Safana's smirk widened. "Why, about you, actually. Or to give away a little detail, about something we have planned for you."

Releasing Eldoth's arms, Skie stood straight, her eyes widening as they stared at Safana. "Is it...something illegal?" She asked almost eagerly. "Roguish? Adventurous?"

"Hmm...something like that. But I cannot tell you yet; it is a surprise."

"Aww! Why not?"

"Because, my dear, it's always _better_ when it is unexpected, isn't it?"

The young woman pouted, then huffed. "Very well." She went over and flopped down back-first onto the bed. "I will just lie here. Again."

"I promise you, little sister, that you will not be suffering from boredom much longer," said Safana. "Come, Eldoth."

The bard frowned, but nodded. He waited until they were halfway down the corridor before speaking.

"So what is it that you wish to discuss? Unless your sole intention was to get me away from her."

"Far from it. Sharess smiles on us both, Eldoth Kron."

His frown deepening, Eldoth placed his hands on his hips, waiting for her to speak further.

"She has brought us a wonderful opportunity," said Safana, stretching out the last word as her smirk returned in full force. "And it walked right into this building only an hour ago."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

 _Clambering onto the roof of the Suldanessellar palace, the ten-year-old boy got to his feet, swept his long, dark red hair out of his face, and began brushing dirt and dust from his bright-blue robes. He stopped upon realizing that he was not alone. A small figure was sitting on the edge a short distance away, her back to him and her legs hanging over the parapet._

 _He blinked, then walked over to her, stopping a few paces away. She appeared to be lost in her own thoughts, as she did not react to his approach. He tilted his head, noting her pointed ears, unkempt appearance and body odour, the latter two hinting strongly that she had not bathed for at least a few days._

 _"What's with your hair?"_

 _She immediately spun around to face him and he frowned at the sight of her tear-stained face. The girl's expression swiftly changed from startled to open hostility._

 _"Is it brown or yellow, or mixed?" he said casually, rubbing his chin. "Never seen any other hair like it."_

 _She stared at him incredulously for a brief moment before her eyes narrowed._

 _"Go away," she snarled through clenched teeth._

 _The boy frowned and placed his hands on his hips._

 _" This is my favourite spot. I'm not gonna give it up just because you're telling me to."_

 _She glared at him for a long moment before slowly turning away. "Just leave me alone," she muttered bitterly._

 _"And let you have all the fun?"_

 _She blinked in confusion several times before turning back to him, eyes afire and jaw clenched once more._

 _"You shouldn't jump."_

 _She froze, staring up at him._

 _"Not with that in your stomach," he added, pointing at the unwrapped leaf upon which sat the remains of her meagre lunch of beans and paste. The girl looked at it and then back at him, hostility and anger now replaced by bewilderment._

 _"I've jumped off many times, and one time, I made the mistake of eating stuff like that before," said the boy. He shook his head at the unpleasant memory._

 _"Threw up in mid-air. Nearly messed up the Feather Fall spell. Here," He sat down next to her on the edge of the parapet, placing a brown-paper-wrapped package between them. "We'll share mine."_

 _The girl stared at him, slowly lowered her gaze to the twin slices of roast mutton in the opened package, then back to his face. He blinked inquisitively before his eyes widened in apparent realization. "Oh, sorry, forgot to ask; you don't have a problem with eating meat, do you?"_

 _She blinked at him, then very slowly moved her head from side to side. He exhaled loudly, his small chest rising and falling. "That's good. Here," he picked and held up one of the two slices of meat to her._

 _She hesitated, then slowly accepted the offering. They ate in silence for a few minutes, the girl keeping her head down while shooting occasional glances at him._

 _The boy produced a sealed tankard from his satchel, paused, then suddenly smacked his own forehead, startling her._

 _"Ah, buggeration. Don't have another one with me." He frowned at the tankard as though it had personally offended him, then grudgingly held it out to her. "Here, take it."_

 _"Urm..."_

 _"Just take it, go on."_

 _The girl blinked twice before quietly accepting it with both hands._

 _Removing the lid, she took a hesitant sip of the brown liquid within and immediately fought an urge to gag at the bitter taste. Forcing herself to swallow, she blinked and went still as a warm, tingling and oddly pleasant sensation ran down her entire body. Before she knew it, she had downed half the contents._

 _"What is this?" she asked, keeping her eyes closed. The boy smirked._

 _"Dunno exactly, but I heard some'a the gents here call it 'cider'. You owe me one after we do this, by the way."_

 _He looked away, finished his slice of mutton with two quick bites, then looked back to find her sitting very still and staring off into the void below them. He blinked at her expression for a moment before looking down at her half-finished meal resting forgotten on her lap._

 _"Hey, hurry up a bit. Lunch-time's almost up and I gotta be back soon."_

 _She gave a start, nodded and finished her meal, though very slowly and in a way that almost belied reluctance._

 _"Right then," said the boy, standing to his feet. The girl hesitated once again before doing the same, looking down at the vast drop before them. "Who's casting, you or me?"_

 _Her head snapped up to look at him, eyes widening in sudden panic. Seemingly not noticing her reaction, the boy rubbed his chin in thought, his gaze turning upward._

 _"Ah, I should do it. You took the drink anyway."_

 _Casually kicking aside the remains of their shared meal, he stepped towards her, closing the small distance between them._

 _"Right, I've never done this with someone else before, so hold on tight, okay?"_

 _The girl paused. Then, only semi-aware of what she was doing, she put her arms around his midriff._

 _"Hey, lower them a bit, I need some room to cast."_

 _She obeyed quietly, her expression still confused, uncertain and more than a little bewildered._

 _"Right, then. Ready?"_

 _Without waiting for an answer, he stepped off the parapet into empty space._

 _Her arms instinctively locked tight around his waist like a vice. The air seemed to howl in her ears as they plummeted at a sickeningly increasing speed._

 _With half of her face buried in the boy's chest, she opened her uncovered eye which then widened to the size of a dinner plate upon seeing that the ground was already coming into view._

 _"Cast it!" she tried to shout, but her voice was seemingly lost in the wind. She craned her head upwards, and terror filled her upon seeing his face. His eyes were closed and he was smiling, his expression serene and relaxed._

 _"Cast it!" she shouted again, with no response._

 _Pure, icy panic flooded her from the feet up. Straining her neck, she brought her mouth up to his ear._

 _"CAST THE DAMN SPELL!"_

 _His eyes snapped open and he gave a start, then rapidly moved his hands while keeping his arms against her sides. She lowered her gaze to the rapidly-approaching ground and shut her eyes tight._

 _There was stillness and silence for a long moment. She then heard his voice._

 _"Hey...leggo. Can't breathe."_

 _She opened her eyes, hardly daring to breathe, and saw that they were now standing on solid ground. She remained still for several seconds, then released her hold on him and roughly shoved him away._

 _"Are you_ _ **crazy**_ _!? You almost_ _ **killed**_ _us!" Her mouth opened to speak further, but she then brought a hand to it and stumbled off to the side._

 _He watched her vomit into the flower patch lining the palace wall. "Told you," he quipped, raising an admonishing finger. "Never eat that kinda food 'fore you jump."_

 _She stood up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, and turned to face him with a ferocious glare._

 _"I_ _ **hate**_ _you!"_

 _She spun on her heel, got twenty paces away, then stopped and whirled around at the sound of footsteps to see him calmly following behind her._

 _"You still owe me a cider, remember?"_

 _They both stood still for a long moment, staring (or in her case, glaring) at each other. Then, with a begrudging snort, the girl turned and resumed walking at a slower pace, allowing him to fall in step beside her._

 _"My name's Gorion, by the way. What's yours?"_

 _"...Jaheira."_

 _.._

* * *

She stood with her back to him, arms folded across her chest and her gaze lowered to the floor.

The silence that had fallen in the room was so thick that Firebead's heartbeat sounded almost deafening to himself. He ceased his attempts to wriggle some feeling into his fingers, awaiting a response from his interrogator.

At last, she slowly lifted her head, staring intently at the window.

"Are you certain of this?"

Firebead released the breath he was involuntarily holding.

"I...well, not absolutely. But...yes. Very certain."

Ten seconds of taut, unmoving silence followed before she spoke again.

"Does he know?"

"That I know it, or-"

"Either."

"...no. No, I do not think so. And if I am wrong," he added quickly. "Then I have not caught any signs."

Jaheira paused, then very slowly nodded her head, turning to face him.

"Do you have any evidence to verify this?"

Firebead hesitated, looking up at her. "Jaheira, I know it seems-"

"Answer the question."

"...no. I don't have any evidence."

She nodded again, her head moving up and down by a few, barely perceptible inches. Her cyan eyes bored deep into his.

"Have you shared this with anyone else?"

"No, I have not," he answered, anger and frustration now clear in his voice. "I was under a geas, remember?"

Jaheira went still once more, meeting the old wizard's glare impassively.

A long moment went by before she slowly stepped forward, produced a small knife from her belt, and applied it to the rope binding him to the bedpost, carefully sawing it down without severing it. Then, putting the knife away, she leaned back to look down at him.

"You will be able to free yourself shortly," she said, her voice as stoic and quiet as her expression. "I will contact you soon."

She left without another word. Firebead stared at the doorway through which she had left for a long moment before closing his eyes and bowing his head.

..

* * *

Jaheira stopped when she had gotten a few blocks away from the house. Lowering her head almost to her chest, she reached out with one hand and placed it against a nearby wall for support. It was almost ten minutes before she was able to collect herself and resume her path back to the inn.

Lost in her own thoughts, she failed to notice Montaron shadowing her.

* * *

Using the knuckles of her right hand, Jaheira knocked very lightly on the door. It opened a few seconds later. For a brief moment, Khalid paused upon seeing her expression, but then silently stood aside to let her in. She stopped upon crossing the threshold.

There were five beds in the room; three on one side and two on the other. The latter two had been pushed together, as is the usual practice for the two half-elves.

Xzar was curled up one of the three remaining beds, his knees nearly reaching his chest. He was wearing a plain tunic in lieu of his robes, which now lay discarded on the floor along with the bed sheets and pillow. His pack was nowhere in sight.

Jaheira's eyes lingered on him for a moment before moving to one of the beds adjacent to his.

Dorean and Imoen were both in it, lying on their sides with the dwarf's back to his roommate. Imoen's arms were wrapped around him from behind, two different shades of brown hair intertwining with each other.

"She wanted to l-leave one f-for the halfling," Khalid whispered at Jaheira's side. He hesitated, then added, "Xzar wanted to take the f-floor."

Jaheira did not respond. After a moment, she slowly and silently moved to Dorean and Imoen's bed.

She stopped on Dorean's side, looking down at his face.

The dwarf's eyes were closed, and his left hand was tucked under his pillow. His beard fluttered slightly from his soft breathing.

His words at the Friendly Arm, spoken in only the previous night, sounded in her ears.

 _'Are you celebrating something?'_

Jaheira blinked upon feeling Khalid's hand on her shoulder. Slowly, as though she herself had just been roused from sleep, she allowed him to steer her to their combined beds, where she found a wrapped package of food awaiting her.

"They b-bought it for you," Khalid explained, giving a small smile and holding it up to her.

Taking it in her hands and lifting the lid, Jaheira's eyes roam distractedly over the contents, then abruptly stop upon seeing a single slice of cooked mutton. After a moment, she silently sat down on the bed with her husband and quietly tucked into her meal.

On the other side of the room, Dorean slowly relaxed his grip on the knife hidden beneath his pillow, and Xzar carefully moved his hand away from the throwing dagger in the folds of his tunic.

Imoen slumbered peacefully, oblivious to the world outside of her dreams.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

 _"Why are they are all looking at me?"_

 _Gorion looked down at the little dwarf walking beside him before following his gaze. Dorean was indeed attracting a lot of stares and mutters from the Candlekeep residents._

 _"Most of them have probably not ever seen a young dwarf before," he replied softly._

 _The boy paused, then nodded. Silence settled on them again as they continued their walk through the garden surrounding the keep. Dorean idly scratched his goatee and inhaled through his nose, breathing in the smell of dew-covered grass. He looked up at the man walking beside him, his hands clasped behind his back. After a moment's hesitation, he stretched out his arm and tugged at the hem of Gorion's robe._

 _"What do you think of dwarves?"_

 _The old wizard stopped and contemplated his charge for a moment. He then smiled and turned to face him._

 _"Well, I know how most people perceive dwarves; that they are a proud people who hold tradition and culture in very high esteem. They also have a love for gold, gems and other metals that shine in the light. Along with a deep-rooted dislike and distrust of all strangers, even other dwarves."_

 _Gorion paused to focus on Dorean's face. The boy's expression remained unchanged; his head was tilted slightly to one side and his eyes were widened slightly, digesting the information._

 _"In my own experience," Gorion went on. "Many dwarves have a tendency to assume the worst in others, and usually do not hesitate to share such opinions."_

 _"So they're hard to like."_

 _"Yes, they can be...difficult," Gorion replied tactfully._

 _Dorean lowered his head and was quiet for a long time. "Am I like that?" he said quietly, seemingly more to himself than to Gorion._

 _The wizard paused for a moment, then bent his knees, lowering himself as close to Dorean's level as he could. The little dwarf looked up at him again._

 _"I have met many dwarves in my life._ _There was one in particular - a mercenary - who travelled with me and my fellow Harpers for a time." He paused for a moment, smiling in recollection. "He was gruff, harsh, greedy, all the characteristics that are negatively associated with his race. None of us enjoyed his company, and we tolerated him mainly because he was useful." He looked away from Dorean, lifting his head slightly towards the sky. "However, after a few months, he started challenging anyone who so much as insulted us, and even refused an opportunity to betray us despite the offer being..." He trailed off._

 _Dorean blinked up at the man. He waited for several seconds before speaking. "What happened?"_

 _"...he swore that he would die for any one of us. And he did."_

 _Gorion slowly rose to his full height, turning to face the morning sun._

 _"Dwarves are often difficult to get along with. But if you manage to earn their trust, they can be good friends and even better allies."_

 _Dorean hesitated, then slowly nodded and watched the sunrise as well. After a moment, he lowered his head again, then spoke without looking up._

 _"Have you met any evil dwarves?"_

 _There was no answer from the wizard. Gorion went very still, looking up at the morning sky. He spoke eventually, without looking at Dorean._

 _"...we could take another round of the gardens before breakfast. What do you think?"_

 _The dwarf kept his gaze down. "...alright."_

 _As they began their walk, Dorean looked up and blinked rapidly._

 _The blue colour of the wizard's robes was now replaced by light grey..._

..

* * *

Dorean blinked again, and the grey robes became green.

Xzar was sitting cross-legged on the bed next to his own, hands resting on his knees and leaning forward, staring straight at him.

Dorean immediately sat up with knife in hand, then lowered it.

"Careful," Xzar whispered in an admonishing tone, ignoring the blade that only seconds ago was less than a foot away from his face. "She's still asleep."

The dwarf froze, then slowly turned his head, keeping the wizard in his pheripheral vision.

Imoen was now lying on her back, her hair splayed across her pillow. She mumbled in her sleep and rolled onto her side. Her snores resonated throughout the room.

"What was it about?"

Dorean turned back to face Xzar, lowering the knife to his side while keeping it in his hand. "Sorry?"

"You were dreaming."

Dorean hesitated. Xzar did not move or in fact even blink, bright green eyes fixed on the dwarf's gray.

"I was walking. In Candlekeep."

"Were you alone?"

"...no. I was with...with my father."

Silence fell on the room, broken only by Imoen's snoring. After a moment, Dorean slowly looked away from Xzar to the other side of the room. Khalid and Jaheira were both sitting up on their combined beds, their backs against the wall and their eyes closed. The dwarf scrutinized their faces for a moment before looking back to the wizard who was still staring at him. A thought floated across Dorean's mind that he seemed oddly docile, almost diminutive without his robes.

"Do you share beds with her frequently?" Xzar asked, his tone inquisitive.

Dorean blinked rapidly, opened and closed his mouth, then opened it again when the door flew open with a crash, its lock spinning onto and across the floor.

In the next two seconds, Khalid and Jaheira were on their feet in an instant with weapons in hand while Dorean grabbed his loaded crossbow from the top of his pack next to the bed and aimed it at the doorway.

Montaron strode in, his face twisted into an ugly scowl.

"Wake up," he announced roughly, looking in the direction of Dorean's bed.

"Mmm...wha..." mumbled Imoen, blearily opening her eyes. "Monty?..."

"Montaron," the halfling corrected automatically.

"W-what t-t-time is it?" said Imoen, sitting up and yawning.

"Downstairs. Now." He looked at the half-elves. "You too." He then turned on his heel and left as quickly and abruptly as he entered.

They all remained still for a moment, listening to his loud footsteps echoing down the corridor, before turning as one to look at Xzar. The wizard's head turned from left to right, meeting the gazes of the half-elves and the dwarf; Imoen was still yawning and stretching her limbs. He then frowned, huffed and folded his arms, looking like an emaciated fishwife.

"Don't look at me. I just work with him."

"He's not very jolly for a halfling, is he?" said Imoen between another yawn.

"You only realized that just now?" replied Dorean despite himself. "And wasn't the door locked?"

"It was," said Khalid.

"The mechanism must have been weak," said Dorean, looking at the broken lock on the floor.

"Or he is much stronger than he looks," Khalid replied.

 _There's the lack of stutter again_ , thought Dorean, narrowing his eyes at the Calishite. He felt Jaheira's eyes on him and quickly looked away to Imoen. "Come on. We better not keep him waiting."

The girl gave one last cat-like stretch of her limbs, reached over and ruffled Dorean's untied hair, then got up and began pulling on her pink tunic over her chemise.

Xzar remained cross-legged on his bed while the others got dressed.

"What did you dream of, Imoen?" He asked suddenly.

The pink girl looked at him and paused in recollection.

"Pie."

The wizard blinked for the first time in five minutes.

"All kinds. Apple, cherry, blueberry. Lots and lots of them, all lined up on a big banquet table." Imoen slowly swept her arm from right to left to emphasize the scope of the imaginary feast. "With honey and milk poured on top." She paused. "And sugar in the lining of the crusts." She paused again, then looked down at Dorean and nudged him in the shoulder with her elbow. "Hurry up. I'm hungry now."

"You're always hungry."

As Imoen was helping Dorean tie his hair into its usual bun, the latter noticed that Jaheira was now openly and directly staring at him; Khalid was preoccupied with adjusting his armour.

The dwarf pretended to be distracted by Imoen, repressing the feeling of foreboding in his chest. He sneaked a glance at Jaheira's feet, as close to eye contact as he dared.

 _Where was she last night?_

..

* * *

"Excuse me, young man?"

Montaron looked up at the elderly couple.

"May we sit here? Everywhere else is full."

A silent, stone-faced stare was their answer. The couple then hurried away, mumbling quick excuses and nearly tripping over Dorean in their haste.

"You're not a morning person, are you, Monty?" said Imoen, sitting down next to the halfling.

Montaron stared at her for a full three seconds before brusquely waving over a nervous young barmaid who was clearly more accustomed to dealing with older, less rough-looking customers. He promptly ordered three dishes, then dismissed her with a "An' make it snappy," to which she gave a quick nod and scurried away.

"What took yez so long?"

"Had to bring all of our things with us," replied Dorean, choosing the seat directly across from the halfling. "Strangest thing, the lock on the door was broken. No idea how that happened." He impassively met Montaron's stare; his patience with the halfling had been gradually worn thin over the past few days.

"I assume you are not going to pay for the damage?" said Jaheira, her voice dripping with scorn. "Or for the food you just ordered?" She and Khalid remained standing, grimly looking down at the halfling.

"Oh, he never pays for anything," said Xzar, smirking contemptuously at his partner. Dorean frowned as the wizard sat down on Imoen's other side.

"Shut up an' listen," said Montaron. He paused to glare at Dorean for a few more seconds. "Need all'a ye to come with me an' meet someone."

Dorean frowned and cocked his head. "This 'someone' the dwarf you mentioned yesterday?"

Montaron briefly narrowed his eyes at him. "Aye."

"Are you going to tell us why?"

Montaron's right eye twitched. "Want to hire him, an' he wants something done in return."

Dorean paused. "And you need us for this, because...?"

"If ye don't want to go, then fine," said Montaron. He lowered his head and glowered at the table. "Can't stand the bastard anyway."

"Me neither," said Xzar, leaning his cheek on one elbow. "He is a very, very, _very_ rude man. Not at all like you," he smiled pleasantly at Dorean. Khalid and Jaheira glared at the wizard together before turning back to Montaron.

"Who is this dwarf?" asked Jaheira. "And why do you wish to hire him?"

Ignoring her, Montaron turned his head to look at the bar at the end of the common room, having had his fill of answering questions. Bristling, Jaheira puffed out her chest and shoulders, then opened her mouth to speak when Imoen cut her off.

"I wanna meet him."

Everyone looked at her.

"We haven't ever seen another dwarf, have we?" she said to Dorean. "Aside from Reevor, that is."

"Who is Reevor?" said Xzar.

"He was our fitness trainer," replied Imoen. Xzar cocked his head.

"You have a fitness trainer? Why?"

"You've seen the way she eats," replied Dorean, perhaps a little too quickly. Reaching across the table, Imoen took a swipe at the dwarf's head which he easily dodged. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Xzar leaning back and rubbing his chin.

While Jaheira glanced impassively at Dorean, Khalid turned away from Imoen to look at Montaron again. "So you were m-meeting with this d-dwarf last night?"

Montaron was quiet for a few seconds. "Aye."

"And...what does he w-want us t-to do for him?"

The halfling took a long, deep breath without closing his eyes. "Talk to him later if ye want."

"...very well."

Jaheira immediately looked at her husband, and they silently exchanged words before she reluctantly nodded. To Dorean's consternation and paranoia, they then took the seats on either sight of him, opposite from Imoen and the Zhents.

"Do you think it's wise to keep him waiting?" asked Dorean as Imoen waved over another barmaid.

Montaron shrugged his shoulders. "Don't care. Let 'im wait."

As a second barmaid approached their table wearing the same nervous expression as the first one, Dorean realized that the noise level in the common room had dropped significantly, particularly at the tables near their own. Casting a look around, he saw that most of the stares and looks were directed at Xzar; apparently, the patrons of Feldepost's Inn had believed Imoen's words about the wizard's extreme aversion to loud noises.

 _Not exactly endearing ourselves to the townspeople._ _Won't be long before word gets around that I'm here, if it hasn't already._

His expression darkened upon seeing Jaheira grimace at Imoen ordering three dishes for herself.

 _Travelling with us isn't going to be cheap. Might affect their decision to keep us around._ He glanced at Imoen, then placed his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers. _Might have to talk to her about that._

Their breakfast arrived with considerably more speed than the meals of other patrons who had ordered first. Montaron silently tossed to Dorean and Imoen each a small packet containing the same white powder he had applied to their drinks in the Friendly Arm. He then tucked into his beef porridge, ignoring the stares of the Candlekeep roommates and Harpers seated with him.

Xzar, however, narrowed his eyes at his partner and quietly sipped his tea.

..

* * *

Once they had finished their breakfast, of which Imoen and Montaron had seven of the eleven ordered dishes, they left the inn and made their way towards the centre of the town.

Montaron must have spoken to his dwarven contact at least before dawn; it was now only the early hours of the morning. Yet Beregost was already awake and busy, with people exiting their homes and walking the streets in droves.

As before, the party drew stares and unfriendly, suspicious looks from the locals, most of whom gave them a wide berth. Dorean pulled his hood further over his face as they passed a patrol of poorly-equipped town militia.

They soon arrived at a large one-storey building that was unremarkable aside from its large, open double doors.

Stopping in front of the entrance, Imoen read the sign above it aloud.

"'Dented Shield Company - Security and Protection.'" She paused, then quickly looked around. "Little brother?"

"He's over there," said Xzar nonchalantly, pointing at a nearby alleyway. The party walked over to find Dorean standing around the corner out of sight.

"I'm not going in," he hissed.

"Relax. I already told 'im 'bout ye." A full belly seemed to have calmed Montaron's nerves, for he was now slightly less surly than before.

"You could have mentioned that the man we're meeting with is in a mercenary band!"

"Yes, you could have," agreed Jaheira, glaring down at the halfling who rolled his eyes at both of them.

"I said I already told 'im."

"And how is that supposed to help?" snapped Jaheira.

Montaron's eyes narrowed as his usual bad mood swiftly returned.

Ignoring them, Xzar poked Imoen in the back to get her attention and pointed at the building.

Imoen blinked and followed his gaze. As if on cue, a short, portly man appeared at the doorway, dressed in the usual extravagant manner of a well-to-do merchant.

He stormed out onto the street, flanked by two armed men, then spun clumsily on his heel and pointed a chubby finger at the building.

"You will regret this, groundling! When Governor Ormlyr hears of-"

A helmet hurtled through the doorway and into his face. The merchant's head snapped back and his body folded forward, landing face-down in the mud-covered street. The two bodyguards looked down at him in surprise, then back up at the building.

"Tell that lump'a shit that when he wakes up," said a loud, gruff voice. "If he ever shows his soddin' face 'round here again, it'll be an axe next time!"

The bodyguards hesitated, their eyes wide.

"Well!? Whaddaya standin' there for? Get 'im outta here!"

The two men exchanged looks, then took hold of their unconscious employer's arms and half-carried, half-dragged him away, heaving under his considerable weight.

"So," the gruff voice continued, still loud albeit calmer. "Anyone _else_ wanna make threats in my own place?"

There was silence for several seconds, during which Dorean and Imoen exchanged looks, Khalid frowned, Jaheira scowled and folded her arms, Montaron checked his fingernails, and Xzar stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked idly back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"Good. Now, those of ya who have _real, actual_ business to discuss with me, you may stay. The rest of ya who have complaints, _GET THE HELL OUT!_ "

A mass of people appeared at the doorway, pushing and elbowing onto the street.

"Let me guess," said Jaheira, her voice frosty enough to fog glass. "That is the person you are taking us to."

Montaron answered with a grunt and walked up to the building. Everyone else stayed where they were, looking down at Dorean. The dwarf's eyes went from Xzar to Jaheira to Khalid.

"We will p-protect you, Dorean," said the Calishite. "We promise."

Jaheira nodded in concurrence with him, though she paused for a few seconds beforehand.

Exchanging another look with Imoen, Dorean then took a deep breath, tugged his hood further over his face, discreetly gripped the knife hidden in his shirt, and headed for the entrance. Imoen walked beside him, taking his hand in hers and giving it a light, reassuring squeeze.

Xzar walked up to the doors ahead of the Harpers and stopped next to it. He then gave a bow and welcoming wave to them as they passed.

He smiled at Jaheira's contemptuous glare and Khalid's jaw-clenched sneer before following them inside.

..

* * *

They were stopped at the entranceway by an outstretched arm. "The boss is ready for you yet," said its owner.

They stood by and waited, Khalid putting himself between the Candlekeep roommates and the guard, his hand resting lazily on the pommel of his sword. Dorean glanced at Jaheira, noting the equally-relaxed grip she was maintaining on her quarterstaff.

 _They're both on alert._

As usual, the dwarf immediately took stock of the people in his immediate area, noting the four guards not counting the one at the entrance as well as their weapons and armour which are in considerably better condition than the patrol they passed on the street earlier.

 _Militia would probably hesitate to confront these people._

Oblivious to her teammates, Imoen idly looked around. Several large shelves adorned with various items stood in rows along the walls running the length of the building. They seemed to be well-organized and maintained, with the items arranged neatly and written labels positioned in front of them.

"Healing and resistance potions, poison antidotes..." she said aloud. "Wow. Who makes all these?"

"A hermit who lives west of here," Xzar answered for her.

On the other side of the building stood a low counter. A dwarf stood behind it, facing the apparently only non-mercenary who did not leave at the owner's outburst earlier.

"Please, you have to find him, I'm begging you!"

"Did ya not hear me, lady? I said only those with actual busin-"

"I'll pay, I'll pay anything you ask! I just need to know that he's alright! It is _killing_ me, not knowing what has become of him..."

With an impatient growl, Montaron strode towards the counter past the guard, who did a double-take before attempting to catch up to him. "Hey!"

"Kagain," said Montaron loudly.

"Hey, you!"

"Kagain," Montaron called again, ignoring the man behind him.

"Hey!" The guard moved in front of the halfling, blocking his way. "Did you not hear what I said, short-arse? I _said_ , the boss ain't ready to meet you, so get back before I-"

"Drumm!"

The man jerked upright with a start and turned to face the dwarf.

"What do you mean, I ain't ready to meet him!?"

"I...I, uh..."

"Are ya sayin' ya know whether I'm ready or not better than I do? Is that what you're sayin'?"

"N-no, boss, I wasn't saying that, I was just..."

"Just what? Why are ya harassin' my clients? Are ya tryin' ta drive my business away? Is that it?"

Drumm's mouth opened and closed like a gulping fish. Dorean noticed that the other mercenaries had turned their heads and averted their eyes from the scene.

"No, no, boss, I-I ain't doing anything like that! I was just, you know, just..."

"Know what? An' quit stammerin'!"

"I...I was just doing what you told me to, that's all. You said-"

"Well, ya're soddin' shit at it, Drumm, that's what I say! Get outta here, ya mutt! Don't come back 'til you grow a brain, or better yet, a pair'a balls! Go!"

Drumm's head briefly darted back and forth between his employer and Montaron before he slowly bowed his head in dejection and shuffled out of the building.

"Sorry about that," said the dwarf to Montaron. "Come on in."

As the party made their way across the wide room, the dwarf turned to one of the remaining mercenaries.

"Genn. Escort Missus Marianne outta here. Gently _._ "

"Wh...what?" said the woman. "But-"

"In fact, make sure she gets home. This town ain't as safe as it used ta be."

Keeping his face directed at the dwarf, Dorean noticed from the corner of his eye that, for a very brief moment, Montaron's face had turned even more blank than usual.

The old dwarf turned to address the halfling, and the moment passed.

"So," he said as the woman was reluctantly led outside. "Down to business. Whattaya got fer me?"

Montaron silently gestured with his head at his companions. Walking around the counter and standing in front of them, the dwarf quickly looked over Jaheira and then Khalid. He gave a soft grunt of approval and nodded, then blinked and froze upon noticing Dorean and Imoen.

"Hello," said Imoen, raising her hand in greeting. The dwarf continued to stare at them, his expression vacant. Imoen slowly dropped her hand, her warm smile wavering.

"Is this a joke?" said the dwarf, turning to Montaron. "Is that what this is?"

Montaron did not answer.

"Ya promised me capable hands an' ya bring me a coupla _brats_? Do I look like I'm runnin' a child rearin' service to you?"

"Weelll," said Xzar. "You do claim to provide security and protection..."

"Shut up," snapped the dwarf, pointing his finger at the wizard before looking back to Montaron. "What the hell is this? Was I not clear to ya? I want men for this job, not soddin' children."

"Hey," said Imoen. "Don't talk about us like we're not here."

The three remaining mercenaries winced. The dwarf went still, then slowly turned around to face Imoen with narrowed eyes.

"I'll talk about ya anyway I want, whether ya're here or not," he said slowly and deliberately. "An' if ya don't like it, ya can eat me."

Khalid and Jaheira straightened, the grip on their respective weapons tightening very slightly. Ignoring them, Imoen frowned down at the dwarf and placed her hands on her hips.

"I'll start with your beard."

Everyone looked at her. The dwarf then made an audible 'heh' and appeared to smirk, though it was near-impossible to tell with his heavily-braided beard.

"What's yer name, kid?"

"Imoen. Yours?" said Imoen, jerking her chin haughtily at him.

"Kagain. I run the Dented Shields," he paused, then turned his gaze onto the young dwarf standing beside her. "What's with ya, nugget? Ya let this girl do all ya talkin' for ya?"

Jaheira's contemptuous scowl was growing by the second. Dorean said nothing. Instead, he stood very still, staring blankly at Kagain and taking in every detail.

The older dwarf stood nearly half a head taller than him and almost twice as wide. An axe hung from his belt on his left side and a flail on his right. The bandolier across his broad chest displayed five throwing axes, each about half the size of Dorean's crossbow.

Dorean's eyes rested on the gold-coloured, gem-encrusted winged helmet atop the man's skull.

 _Carbos, clutching his empty tankard and slurring. 'Had an armed escort an' everythin'. Led by a dwarf. Had armour, a winged helmet and a big white beard. Looked nothin' like you.'_

Dorean's eyes flicked to the three mercenaries, focusing on their helmets and gambesons. He then returned his gaze to Kagain and spoke just as the older dwarf opened his own mouth.

"You want us to join you in escorting a caravan."

Kagain paused, closing his mouth. He then lifted his head slightly, eyes narrowing at Dorean.

"The people you ordered out," Dorean continued. "They were here about the caravan that was supposed to arrive in town yesterday. Probably asking about their loved ones, or demanding refunds and compensation." He paused. "The men you assigned to guard that caravan were massacred. It wasn't even a fight. I don't think they inflicted a single enemy casualty."

The mercenaries tensed, but otherwise did not move or speak. The Harpers' eyes went to them, Khalid slowly closing his grip on his sword. Dorean ignored them all, keeping still with his gaze focused on the other dwarf in front of him.

"You need people who can handle these new players. And your men cannot do that."

There was silence for a moment. "And you think you can?"

"I think," said Dorean slowly. "That right now, you need us more than we need you."

Silence fell on the room again. Kagain then gave a wide smile that did not reach his eyes and gestured with his head towards Montaron.

"Ya friend didn't tell me ya'd have a big mouth." He paused. "He did tell me about the bounty on yer head."

Khalid and Jaheira did not move. Neither did Montaron or Imoen. Xzar, however, appeared to have lost all interest in the discussion and had walked off to examine the items on the shelves.

"Thousand gold alive, five hundred dead. Quite a sum. Five times higher than the usual bounties we get here. Every sellsword, bounty hunter, guardsman an' wannabe hero is gonna be tempted ta try an' get it. So tell me, smart-mouth; why should me an' my guys make that our problem?"

Ten seconds passed. Imoen's head turned from Kagain to Dorean, who raised a hand to keep her quiet. The younger dwarf then slowly reached into his pack without turning around.

Keeping his arm bent at the elbow, he held out his gloved hand, upon which lay the star sapphire.

Kagain went very still, his silvery-blue eyes becoming alight as they gazed upon the gem. Dorean gave him five more seconds before closing his fingers over it and stowing it away in his pack. Kagain blinked, and it took a few seconds before he regained his composure.

"That's just one thing. The job's another. I know people, boy. I know ya ain't a fighter. An' you ain't one either," he added to Imoen. "Ya know how to use that thing?" He lifted his chin at the short-bow on her back. Imoen scowled.

"Yeah, I know how. And he's better," she gestured sideways with her head at Dorean. "My little brother's the meanest shot with a crossbow you'll ever meet."

Kagain snorted, the sound reminding Dorean of Dreppin's cow. "I've got archers, kid. I doubt yer 'lil brother' is anywhere near ta 'em."

"Well," replied Imoen, her scowl deepening as she crossed her arms over her chest. "He also killed two of the men who attacked your caravan. All by himself too. That's two more than all of your people combined have managed."

Kagain went very still, his eyes narrowing to slits. One of his men eased himself off the wall he was leaning against. Another took a step towards the party.

Among the shelves behind them, Xzar looked over at Imoen, his green eyes bright in the dim light of the room.

Dorean hesitated for three seconds, then elbowed Imoen hard in the ribs.

"Oww!"

Imoen reeled sideways, then swiped at Dorean. He dodged her clumsy swing without looking, leaving her glaring at the side of his head.

"You're right about her. She's a spoiled brat," he said to Kagain, his tone crisped. "It's true, though; I'm competent with the crossbow, and I have fought and killed two of the men who attacked and raided the caravan your people were escorting."

Kagain paused for a moment. He looked over at Montaron who remained silent, then back to Dorean.

"Words are nothin' till ya prove 'em, boy."

"There an archery range here?" said Imoen, still rubbing her side. This time, Kagain's smirk was clearly visible, with one side of his thick beard curling upwards.

"There's one at the smithy."

"Let's go, then." With that, Imoen turned and began walking towards the front entrance.

"Hold a moment," said Jaheira, causing Imoen to stop. "We have not yet agreed to help you in your mercenary dealings, dwarf. I assume your friend here," she gestured to Montaron using the same head motion he had used on her earlier. "Forgot to tell you that?"

Kagain paused before facing Jaheira and planting his feet firmly on the ground. "First off; he ain't my friend. And yeah, he forgot ta mention it."

The halfling merely tilted his head very slightly to one side at the dwarf's glare, his expression still mundanely calm.

"You have repeatedly questioned our potential worth to you," said Jaheira. "I will now ask you the same; why should we go through this much trouble and tedium just to hire you?"

Kagain slowly nodded. "Fair point. Well, I can swing an' axe an' a flail better than anyone in this damn town."

"Is that it?" said Jaheira. "Martial skills? I doubt we need another-"

"I also know the lands surrounding Beregost. An' I have knowledge an' experience of underground caverns an' passages...like mines, fer example. Oh yeah," he added when the half-elves both glared daggers at Montaron. "Ya friend here told me. You're goin' together, eh?" He gave another Nessa-like snort. "Never thought I'd see Harpers an' Zhents workin' together. This Iron Crisis must be pretty interestin' to all of ya."

Silence fell on the room like a thunderbolt. The looks Khalid and Jaheira were giving Montaron could have melted steel. The halfling, as usual, ignored them completely. Jaheira slowly turned back to face Kagain.

"He is not not my friend."

Kagain gave an amused huff. "Yeah, didn't think so. Don't think he has any friends at all, do ya, Montaron?"

The halfling gave a quiet, deep breath through his nose, and his expression became so emotionlessly blank that it seemed like he was staring straight through Kagain. The dwarf maintained eye contact with him for a few more seconds before turning back to the half-elves.

"I can also make sure that my men don't bother the nugget. That's if ya agree ta help me first, of course."

"That a threat?" said Khalid. Everyone except Xzar and Montaron gave a start; it was the first time he had spoken since they had entered the building.

"I don't make threats, lad. I make promises. My axe, my knowledge'a the mines, an' my protection. Ya agree ta the deal, ya get all three."

"Words are nothing until they are proven," said Jaheira icily. Dorean winced at her tone.

 _She really isn't liking any of this._

Kagain nodded slowly once more. "Wise words, woman." He paused, then turned to one of his three remaining men.

"Tenny; look after the place for me. I'm goin' out."

He then turned to Dorean and Imoen, his blue eyes sparkling.

"Well then...let's go see if ya are as mean the shots ya say ya are."


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

 _"Mister Gorion, sir?"_

 _Gorion looked up from what felt like his two hundredth sheet of parchment since he first arrived in Candlekeep. "Yes?"_

 _There was a pause from beyond the doorway. "There's someone here to see you. Said he knows you, sir."_

 _Gorion went very still. On the other side of the room, Dorean slowly lowered his book, eyes fixed on the door as he carefully eased himself off the bed._

 _"Did he give his name?"_

 _"Ah, no, no he did not, sir. I didn't think to ask-"_

 _"That's alright, lass," said another voice. "Appreciate the help. Here's a little somethin' fer yer trouble." There was an audible clink of coin. "I'll just let meself in now."_

 _Dorean looked Gorion. The wizard's eyes had widened slightly, and his lips were drawn into a thin grimace. He did not rise or indeed move at all from behind the desk, not even when the door opened to reveal Winthrop on the other side._

 _"'Mornin'," he said, striding casually into the room. "Oh, din't see ye there," he added, turning to Dorean. "Nice ta meet ye. Name's Winthrop."_

 _The little dwarf stared at the outstretched hand, then up at Winthrop's smiling, brown-haired, heavily-bearded face before looking at Gorion._

 _"Wait outside, Dorean," said the wizard, his tone brooking no argument. He did not take his eyes off of Winthrop._

 _Dorean hesitated, then grabbed his book and moved past Winthrop to the open door, closing it behind him._

 _"'Dorean', huh? Nice name," said Winthrop, turning to face Gorion. His tone and demeanour were light-hearted and pleasant, seemingly oblivious to the wizard's grim, unfriendly stare. "I guess ye're wonderin' how I found ye here..."_

 _"You guessed wrong."_

 _"Ah. Well, that's good, then. Guess ye're used to it by now, huh?" Winthrop waited for a reply, then continued unperturbed when he did not receive one. "I'm lookin' fer a place ta stay. Jus' fer a day or two."_

 _Several seconds passed in silence. "Why not use your other contacts?" asked Gorion, his voice flat and neutral, betraying no emotion._

 _Winthrop stretched one arm around his broad shoulder to scratch the back of his head. "Ain't sure they all aren't already compromised, to be honest." He waited for Gorion to speak and again received no answer. "Look, it's just fer a few days. That's all I'm askin'."_

 _Still Gorion did not speak or move. He remained still, back straight and hands resting idly on his desk._

 _After a few seconds, Winthrop casually looked around the room, his eyes resting on the pile of books next to Dorean's bed._

 _"Lad's been readin' quite a bit." He picked up one of the books, turning it over in his large hands and smirking slightly at the image on the front cover depicting an old, heavily bearded dwarf sitting on a large stone throne. "He been doin' much of anythin' else?"_

 _Gorion did not answer. The fingers of his right hand twitched slightly. Winthrop met his gaze for a moment and then smiled. With a surprising speed for a man of his size, he then turned and opened the door, revealing Dorean standing just behind it._

 _"Do ye like archery, kid?"_

 _Dorean could only blink up at Winthrop, clutching his book to his small chest._

 _"I love it, personally. There a range 'round here?"_

 _"...yeah," replied the little dwarf._

 _"Goody gumdrops. Could ye take me there?"_

 _Dorean blinked a few more times, glanced at Gorion, then nodded once. He turned around slowly and uncertainly, looking over his shoulder at Winthrop as he led the man away from the room towards the stairs._

 _Gorion hesitated for a single second before rising from behind his desk to follow them._

..

* * *

 _There were no guards posted at the entrance to the Candlekeep training grounds, and it was only when they were halfway across the yard that people began to notice them. Stares, pointed fingers and whispers followed, many of them directed at the tiny dwarf leading the other two strangers. Some of the Watchers even deigned to look busy by pretending to examine their weapons and armour, apparently having mistaken the bearded trio for yet another of Ulraunt's surprise inspections._

 _"Bit smaller than I thought it'd be," Winthrop commented when they reached the archery range. He then walked over to three Watchers who were practice-shooting, giving a friendly wave as they lowered their bows and turned to face him. "Mornin' to ye all. Up an' at 'em already?"_

 _The Watchers looked at each other uncertainly before turning back to Winthrop. "Ah, yes..." said one of them, glancing at the approaching Gorion and Dorean. "Urm, should you be in here? No offense, but Keeper Ulraunt said we are not to let civilians in here."_

 _"Oh, it's nothin' ta worry about. We jus' wanted ta see fer ourselves the quality of Candlekeep's security forces, don't we, Gorion?"_

 _As one, the Watchers and Dorean all looked at the wizard, who briefly exchanged a look with Winthrop. "Let me worry about Ulraunt," he said evenly._

 _The three Watchers all breathed a sigh of relief. "Much appreciated, Mister Gorion."_

 _"Keeper's not an easy man ta work with, is he?" said Winthrop with a grin. The Watchers again exchanged looks. One of them scratched the back of his head._

 _"He's a good man, won't say nothing 'gainst him. But..."_

 _"But?..." Winthrop encouraged._

 _"He can be a bit...y'know."_

 _"Ah. Aye, I know what ye mean," said Winthrop, nodding emphatically. "Had me share of employers like that too."_

 _The Watchers visibly relaxed, and soon were chatting and exchanging small-talk with Winthrop as though he were an old friend. Dorean and Gorion idly stood by. The wizard looked down to see the dwarf staring up at him, questions written all over his small face. Gorion glanced at the nearby men and shook his head slightly before looking back to Winthrop and the Watchers._

 _"So, ye friends of Dorean too?" asked Winthrop, waving an arm in the dwarf's direction._

 _"Uh...well...this is the first time we've met 'im, actually."_

 _Winthrop raised his eyebrows at Gorion. "You haven't shown him 'round yet? The boy's been 'ere a week already!"_

 _Gorion stared coldly at Winthrop, then blinked and looked down at Dorean, who at the curious stares of the Watchers had moved closer beside him._

 _"I understand ye've been busy, Gorion, but ya can't put off showin' the boy around the place," Winthrop admonished, placing his hands on his hips. "Well, better late than never. Gents, this here's Dorean, whom me friend Gorion adopted what with havin' a heart roughly twice the size o' the world." He then leaned forward and added in a whisper, "Go easy on 'im, lads. He's an orphan."_

 _The Watchers hesitated, then stepped forward to introduce themselves to the little dwarf. Dorean nodded to each in turn while staying next to Gorion. Upon being asked where he was from, he silently lowered his gaze to the ground._

 _"That's some fine shootin', if I may say so," said Winthrop, tactfully changing the subject. "You gents mind if I take a few o' me own?"_

 _It only took a few seconds for the Watchers to nod in agreement, and soon they were complimenting Winthrop after he had made three perfect shots in a row._

 _"Takes me back, this does. Gorion, would ye like a go? Nothin' like testin' yer aim ta while away the mornin'."_

 _"Some other time, perhaps," said Gorion, with a smile that did not reach his eyes. Winthrop smiled back, then looked down at Dorean who was still standing very close beside the wizard._

 _"What about ye, Dorean? Here's yer chance to be better than yer old man at somethin'."_

 _Dorean stared up at the short-bow held out in Winthrop's hand. He then slowly stepped forward and reached out with both hands to take the weapon._

 _An awkward minute later, it was made clear to everyone present that Dorean would have great difficulty nocking the bow, never mind firing it; his small, short arms could barely stretch the bow-string. Winthrop stroked his beard before turning to one of the Watchers._

 _"How 'bout that crossbow'a yers?"_

 _The man looked down at the weapon clutched in his hand and then at the little dwarf. An unspoken agreement filtered between the humans; the crossbow's length exceeded Dorean's height._

 _Winthrop paused, then opened his mouth to speak and stopped when he saw Dorean frown and lift his arms again, this time towards the crossbow._

 _The Watcher exchanged looks with his two companions before stepping forward and hesitantly placing the weapon in Dorean's arms. The instant he relinquished his hold on it, the dwarf nearly keeled over at the weight, but quickly regained his balance, leaning the business end of the crossbow on the ground._

 _"Now, don't be afraid of it, lad," said Winthrop gently, dropping to one knee next to Dorean._

 _"...I'm not."_

 _Standing slightly behind and to the side, Gorion noted Dorean's calm, almost detached expression, and was abruptly reminded of a bone dagger being brandished in his face. He watched in silence as Winthrop instructed the dwarf in prepping and loading the crossbow._

 _"Now, lad, put it to yer shoulder, and point it at the centre o' that," said Winthrop, pointing at the large, round wooden target with several circles painted on in different colours._

 _"Steady yer grip...now yer breathing...now, just when ye're ready ta fire, there's two words ye should always keep in mind..."_

..

* * *

"...Front sight," the dwarf whispered.

His finger depressed the trigger, and the bolt flew straight and true, striking the target dead centre.

Silence filled the archery range for a few seconds before being broken by an enthusiastic whoop from Imoen.

"That's my little brother!" she cheered, raising a fist towards the sky. Beside her, Xzar blinked and tilted his head at Imoen applauding her roommate.

Khalid, who had been standing close behind Dorean, gave him a warm smile. The dwarf nodded in response, though his returning smile faded slightly when he noticed Montaron staring at him with slightly narrowed eyes. He looked away and immediately regretted it when he made eye contact with Jaheira, who was standing next to Kagain with her arms folded over her chest. The woman had apparently been watching his marksmanship display just as intently as the halfling.

"Under three minutes," she said, her voice flat. "Impressive."

The mercenary's jaw and beard moved from side to side as he silently contemplated the younger dwarf in front of him. After a moment, he grunted and spat off to the side.

"Ya turn now, girl."

Nodding to Kagain, Imoen strode to her chosen spot, giving Dorean's hair a brief tousle as she passed. She readied her bow and quiver, faced her target, took a long, deep breath, and promptly began.

She fired smoothly and steadily, her arms moving as though of their own accord to nock, aim and loose the arrows and her feet remained perfectly still throughout.

A smirk formed on her face upon hitting the target's centre for the fifth consecutive time, and it got wider and wider with each successful shot. When she had loosed her tenth and final arrow, Imoen then turned to Kagain, grinning from ear to ear. The mercenary stared up at her, his hands resting on his wide hips. His gaze shifted from Imoen to Dorean. After a few seconds, he gave a loud 'humph.'

"Alright. Seems ya may not be completely hopeless."

Imoen continued to grin at him as though he had placed their archery skills on the level of Shevarash. Kagain glowered at her irritably.

"Gotta talk ta one'a my guys."

He headed towards the exit, shoving aside the people in his way.

Dorean looked around and immediately cursed himself; he had been preoccupied with watching Imoen, and had failed to notice that they had attracted a small audience. One in particular caught his eye; a young man dressed in a manner befitting a minstrel.

"A fine display!" the man said suddenly, startling Dorean out of his examination.

Imoen blinked uncomprehendingly for one second before her expression brightened and she turned to face her new fan. "Oh, shucks, that weren't nothin'. Think I might've almost missed the last one."

"Please don't sell yourself short," said the man, stepping forward. "I have rarely seen such skill with the bow, and I have seen many! Least of all from one so young!"

"I'm not _that_ young," pouted Imoen. The man blinked and then gave a quick bow.

"Ah, apologies, my lady. Please forgive my impertinence. Ah, and to you as well, sir dwarf," he added, giving a second bow to Dorean. "For forgetting to compliment your skill as well."

"I...thank you, sir," Dorean replied, cautiously inclining his head. "I believe you have us at a disadvantage..."

"Oh, where are my manners? I am Garrick, travelling minstrel to Silke Rosena." He paused to look around the group, and his smile deflated slightly at their lack of reactions. "Surely you have heard of her? She is the most skilled musician and actor on the Sword Coast!"

Nobody answered him. Dorean and Imoen both blinked at Garrick while Khalid and Jaheira exchanged looks and shrugs. Xzar, on the other hand, tilted his head even further to examine Garrick, one of his eyebrows disappearing into his long, shaggy hair. Montaron, as usual, remained silent and expressionless.

"Huh," said Garrick. "Well, 'tis said that true talent is never recognized until long after it has passed us by."

"You are rather well-armed for a minstrel," said Jaheira, her eyes roving over Garrick's sword and crossbow.

"Well, one cannot be too careful in these parts," he replied, rubbing the back of his head. "Not that I am speaking ill of this great land," he quickly added. "Lovely place, the Sword Coast." There was a brief awkward silence. "I suppose I should tell you why I approached you all so boldly..."

"Ye suppose correct," said Montaron. Khalid glared at him.

"Miss Rosena and I are travelling to Baldur's Gate. She is to perform at the Ducal Palace this month. However, she has become...reluctant to leave Beregost, at least not without acquiring a few bodyguards first."

 _So you came here looking for capable muscle?_ Dorean thought.

"Your partner is right to be cautious," said Jaheira. "The roads have become increasingly dangerous of late."

"So, you're lookin' to hire us?" asked Imoen.

"I might," replied Garrick. "In fact, after seeing your skills with my own two eyes, I believe you may be the best people to protect Mistress Rosena."

Imoen blinked and then turned excitedly to Dorean. "Hired bodyguards. _Us._ "

Dorean held up a hand to silence her. "Mister Garrick..."

"Just Garrick, if you please."

"Forgive me for asking, but why not go to the Flaming Fist instead?"

"To tell you the truth, I did. But alas, they refused my plea to ensure protection for Mistress Rosena. Understandably so," he added with a sigh. "The safety of the townsfolk takes precedence over the entertainment of the city's nobles. That's what the officer told me."

"So you decided to hire complete strangers?" said Jaheira. "That is a very good way to get yourself robbed or swindled."

"Well, you _aren't_ robbers or swindlers, are you?"

"Not all of us," replied Jaheira, glancing pointedly at the Zhents. Montaron raised an eyebrow while Xzar frowned indignantly.

"Oh. Well, that's good enough for me, then," said Garrick. "In fact-"

He stopped at the sound of clinking chain-mail and turned around to face a returning Kagain.

"Who's the fancy-boy?" Kagain said rudely, glaring up at Garrick.

"Ah, pleased to meet you, sir dwarf. My name's-"

"I don't care what ya name is. Whatta ya doin' here?"

"Urm...I was, er..."

"Had ta deal with one stutterin' moron today already. Spit it out."

"My mistress and I wish to hire your services as bodyguards, from here to Baldur's Gate," Garrick said speedily.

Kagain paused, then crossed his arms over his large chest. "An' how much is this mistress'a yours willin' ta pay?" he asked, noticeably stretching his accent. "I don't work fer free."

"Three hundred gold, and if we run into any trouble, there will be an extra hundred if you disperse it."

Kagain grunted. "Where an' when?"

"We are staying at the Burning Wizard. You may come by anytime, though sooner would be preferable to later." Garrick paused to take a breath. "If you like, I could escort you there now."

"Got some things ta take care of first. Tell ya missy we'll be there later, today."

Garrick hesitated, then nodded. "Excellent. I shall inform her of the news."

"Uh-huh. Now git."

Seeing Kagain's expression, Garrick wisely kept silent and nodded, gave the others a quick bow, and scurried out of the archery range.

"I do not remember you being appointed to make decisions for the entire group without our consent," said Jaheira coldly.

"An' I don't give a gibberling's ass what ya do or do not remember," replied Kagain. "Ya don't want the job, then don't take it. One less person ta split the fee with."

"So where were you?" said Dorean quickly, cutting off Jaheira's retort and earning a frown from her.

"Gettin' the boys together. We're gonna meet with 'em later today."

Dorean hesitated. "I don't think it would be a good idea for me to attend this meeting," he said slowly.

Kagain eyed him coldly. "My guys are solid, nugget. I say ya off-limits, ya off-limits. An' ya will be workin' with 'em anyway, so ya might as well meet 'em sooner rather 'an later."

"And you will give your word that no harm will come to us at the hands of your men?" said Jaheira.

Kagain looked her straight in the eye. "Ya have my word."

They stared each other down for a long moment. Jaheira then slowly nodded. "Very well. Where is this meeting?"

"The Red Sheaf Inn. Could be a while 'fore the boys are ready. I'd say an hour or two."

"D-does it usually take this long to m-muster your men?" asked Khalid.

"The Dented Shields company usually consists of around twenty to thirty-five men," said Xzar. He paused and then lifted his brow in thought. "Although that number may have been significantly reduced as of yesterday, so... "

"Ya oughta learn ta keep ya trap shut, wizard," Kagain muttered in a low growl. "An to answer ya question, soldier-boy, yes, it does usually take that long. Are we done with all the soddin' questions?"

"Just one more," said Dorean, glancing at the spot where Garrick had walked out of sight. "The job the minstrel offered. Think it's a set-up?"

Kagain blinked and cocked his head at Dorean. "Mm. Maybe, maybe not. Them music-people are all liars anyway."

"Even the dwarven ones?" asked Imoen.

Kagain paused. "Especially tha dwarven ones."

"I've never met a dwarf bard," said Imoen idly. "He could sing, though," she added, pointing at Dorean and earning an exasperated look from the latter.

"Well, thank you for that," said Kagain, his voice dripping sarcasm. "I'll keep it in mind next time I wanna have a reason ta sew me ears shut."

"The minstrel," said Dorean quickly upon seeing Imoen's scowl. "What do you think?"

Kagain paused again to look at the young dwarf. "Ain't the trusting type, are ya?" He nodded. "Fine, if ya that shaken up by the fancy-pants, I'll have some'a my boys at the Wizard, make sure it's safe."

 _Not if you're in on it_.

Keeping his expression straight-faced, Dorean bowed his head to Kagain. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

Kagain's beard bristled as he gave another annoyed grunt. "Don't want yer appreciation. Jus' make sure ya pull your weight."

"I will, Kagain. You have my word."

Kagain glared at Dorean for a moment before giving a huff and looking away at the archery targets at the end of the range. Dorean looked at Khalid, who simply shrugged his shoulders.

"Hey, nugget," Kagain said abruptly. "Think ya can shoot just as straight in half ya time from before?"

"...no," replied Dorean, catching on quickly. "But I can try."

Kagain grinned. "Heh. Alright, let's see it."

 _Not satisfied with our last display, is he? Can't blame him for wanting to be sure about us, though._

Dorean took his spot and then blinked at Imoen taking the one next to him. He looked up at her grinning face, then smiled and nodded.

"Hey, how about a wager?" he said, turning to Kagain. "Me against her."

Kagain paused, silently contemplating the younger dwarf and pink-clad girl.

"I'll take it," said Montaron, easing himself from the wall. "Ten gold on her." He inclined his head at Imoen, who blinked in surprise and then smiled at the halfling. He ignored her, looking to Kagain instead. "Interested?"

The mercenary glanced coldly at Montaron, then slowly shook his head and moved away.

 _Doesn't like to gamble, perhaps?_ thought Dorean. _Or just not with Montaron?_

"You're on," said Khalid suddenly, stepping forward towards Montaron. "T-ten on Dorean."

Five heads turned to face the Calishite, all but one with surprised expressions; Xzar, the sole exception, narrowed his eyes and stroked his chin. Montaron hesitated, then gave a crooked smile and nodded before turning to Imoen. "Ye payin' me back if ye lose."

Imoen hesitated for a moment before her smile returned in full force. "Remember when I said that he's better than me?" She inclined her head at Dorean. "I lied."

Montaron raised an eyebrow, then resumed leaning against the wall.

Nodding and smiling to both Dorean and Imoen, Khalid then placed his hands on his hips. Noticing Jaheira's questioning look from the corner of his eye, he quietly returned her gaze before turning back to the ensuing competition.

"Best out of twenty, then?" asked Imoen.

"You're on," replied Dorean.

"Three, two..." Imoen paused deliberately, but Dorean, out of past experience, did not fall for it. "...one."

They both reached for their quivers, readied their weapons, and fired almost at the exact same time.

..

* * *

By the time Dorean and Imoen had got to fifteen out of twenty, a small crowd had formed around the party. Glad that he had kept his hood up, Dorean noted bemusedly that most of them were cheering for Imoen.

Montaron and Khalid, now being far from the only people to have staked money on the outcome, were nonetheless the most invested. Both of them stood behind their respective chosen winner, silently urging them towards victory.

As he reached for his twentieth and final crossbow bolt, Dorean realized that he was in the lead. From the corner of his eye, he saw Montaron standing a few paces behind Imoen, arms folded and eyes narrowed in concentration.

In that half-second, Dorean made his decision. His final bolt missed the red circle of the target, landing a few inches to the side.

Lowering her bow, Imoen took a deep breath and staggered backwards a few steps, then turned to receive the whoops and cheers of the crowd with a low bow and a tired yet triumphant grin.

Khalid gave Dorean a reassuring pat on the shoulder before turning to a smirking Montaron and coolly handing over his wager. He smiled and shook his head when Dorean reached into his own coin pouch, then returned to his usual place beside Jaheira, who frowned at her husband for a moment before looking back to the two competitors.

"Ha...HA!" said Imoen, still catching her breath. "That puts us at even, little brother!"

"Got sweat in my eye on that last one," Dorean grumbled.

"Still counts as my win!"

"I didn't think the Candlekeep Watchers knew how to shoot," said Kagain, eyeing the now-dispersing crowd and stepping forward in front of Dorean and Imoen. "They the ones taught ya to use those?" He gestured at their weapons. Dorean and Imoen looked at each other.

"Well...yeah, they did," said Imoen. "Though my da taught us mainly."

"That would be your father, Winthrop?" said Jaheira, her words sounding more like a statement than a question. For a fraction of a second, Dorean noticed her eyes flick to Kagain, examining the mercenary's reaction to the name, before returning her gaze to Imoen.

"Yep," said Imoen. "He said we can't always rely on other people to keep us safe, that we needed to know how to defend ourselves."

"...I see," replied Jaheira.

Behind her, Xzar gazed at the back of Jaheira's head. He then walked past her and Khalid, and Imoen blinked as the wizard took her bow from her hands.

Taking the spot next to her own, Xzar paused, then looked down at Imoen. She blinked, looked around at the others, then silently removed and handed over her quiver.

With a brief, strange smile that apparently was supposed to convey gratitude, Xzar then fumbled and dropped the quiver, hastily picked it up again, and leaned it upright against the wooden post between himself and Imoen.

He removed an arrow and clumsily nocked it to her bow, then loosed. It landed on the ground less than halfway to the target.

There was silence for several seconds. Then it was broken by a loud, raucous laugh slightly muffled by a thick beard.

Glaring at Kagain, Xzar straightened in indignant fashion, nocked another arrow, drew back the string further than before, and fired a shot that missed the wooden target completely, sailing past it at a good ten paces. Several of the onlookers immediately burst out laughing as well, joining in Kagain's mirth.

Dorean, Imoen, Khalid and Jaheira all exchanged perplexed looks before simultaneously staring at Montaron. The halfling returned their stares nonchalantly, then silently went to lean against the nearby wall.

With a frustrated growl, Xzar snatched up another arrow, nocked it to Imoen's bow, closed his left eye, aimed carefully for five seconds, and fired. The arrow struck the very edge of the target and spiralled up into the air before landing on the ground.

"Hey, Montaron!" guffawed Kagain. "Why din't ya tell me this guy was such a lousy shot!?"

"His aim is atrocious," Khalid muttered softly to Jaheira.

Xzar was still for a moment. Then, moving only his hand, he slowly took another arrow from the quiver.

"Imoen," he said softly, just loud enough for only her to hear.

"Yes?"

"Have you ever shot a living being before?"

She hesitated, her eyes moving to the bow in his hand. "No."

Xzar hummed softly. "Well, I have. And I can tell you that it is quite different from this. For example; you were taking too long to aim." He casually nocked and loosed another arrow that somehow managed to hit the adjacent target, inciting even more laughter from Kagain and the crowd. Imoen cocked her head at Xzar, puzzled by the impromtu lesson.

"It is highly unlikely, after all, that the person you are attempting to hit would stay still."

Imoen blinked at him for a moment, glanced at the onlookers having a laugh at Xzar's expense, then nodded. "Dorean and I used to practice dodging arrows."

Xzar smiled. "Then you'd understand something else; the person might be wearing armour. So, as troublesome as it might be, you would have to learn to aim for the head. Or, if he is wearing a helmet..."

He nocked another arrow, then turned around and aimed it at Kagain.

"...his face."

The laughter from the locals died in an instant. A few immediately hurried for the exit. Kagain, however, continued to chuckle for a few more seconds before going quiet.

Imoen, Khalid and Jaheira froze, the latter two with their hands on their weapons.

"You have to aim low, see," said Xzar. "For he may attempt to deflect it with the helm by ducking his head." The bow moved, and the arrow tip pointed to Kagain's heavily-bearded jaw. "Like so."

The next five seconds seemed to linger for an eternity. Then the silence was broken by a short, mirthless snort from Kagain.

"That's funny, Xzar. Real funny." He paused. "Now put it down."

In response, Xzar slowly began to pull back further on the bow-string.

"Joke's over, Xzar," said Kagain, louder this time. "I mean it. Put it down."

"Oh, I will," replied Xzar, his eyes and smile widening. "Right after I shoot you in the mouth."

"Montaron," Kagain snarled. "Tell ya partner ta put that bow away before I make him regret it."

The halfling did not answer him, nor did he move from his perch against the wall. Instead, he surveyed the scene in front of him with an all-too-convincing expression of callous indifference.

"Hey, you gonna shoot that dwarf or what?" one of the locals hollered. His eyes flicking to the individual, Dorean tilted his hooded head; some of the expressions in the small crowd appeared almost eager.

 _Kagain's not a popular man in this town._

Kagain let out a deep, guttural growl at the heckle, but otherwise did not answer.

"Montaron," he said, his voice growing louder with each syllable. "If ya don't want my guys comin' after ya an' yer partner, tell 'im to put. The bow. Down."

Kagain may as well have been speaking to thin air; Montaron gave no sign that he had heard him.

Imoen's head darted urgently back from forth, from one companion to the other. Her eyes met Dorean's, and he quietly nodded in acknowledgement of her plea.

"You were never nice to me, Kagain," Xzar crooned, his bright green eyes now wide and staring into Kagain's blue. The mercenary bared his teeth in response. His right hand rested on one of the throwing axes on his chest.

"So ya gonna shoot me?" He growled lowly. "Huh, is that what ya gonna do? Then shoot me, ya crazy mutt! Go ahead!"

His lips peeling back to expose pearly-white teeth, Xzar stretched the string as taut as it could go, lingered for a moment to take in Kagain's expression, then loosed.

After a few seconds, he blinked and looked downward.

The arrow was still in place, albeit released from the bowstring. Dorean stood below it, holding firmly onto the shaft just behind the arrowhead.

Xzar stared. Dorean calmly returned his gaze, then casually removed the arrow from the bow. In the silence that followed, he walked over to Imoen's quiver, dropped the arrow into it, then looked up at the numerous stares directed his way. He then turned to face Kagain and smiled.  
"Had you going there, didn't we?" He jerked a thumb at Xzar. "He's been doing it a lot. You should have seen their faces when he pulled it on them," he pointed to Khalid and Jaheira.

After several more seconds, the silence was broken by awkward and nervous laughter from the remaining local onlookers. Kagain paused, his flashing eyes moving from Xzar to Dorean and Imoen, then slowly turned his head to face them.

"Ya lot better get outta here before I lose my temper."

The locals ceased their laughing again, this time gravitating toward the exit. When the last of them was out of sight, Kagain turned his gaze back to the wizard, dwarf and girl in front of him. His beard twitched as he worked his jaw, and it was a few moments before he finally spoke.

"...really funny. Ha sodding ha."

His bright, blue-eyed glare lingered briefly on Xzar. Kagain then turned to Khalid and Jaheira.

"Red Sheaf. Half-hour. Ya not there, ya can forget about me helpin' ya."

Leaving his last glower for Dorean, Kagain then turned and stalked away, the clinking of his chainmail following in his wake.

"...Xzar," Imoen said slowly, remaining in her seated position on the ground. "Were you really going to shoot him?"  
Xzar paused with lifted his head slightly in contemplation.

"Yes."

"Because he wasn't nice to you?"

"...yes."

"Oh," said Imoen. "That's not a very good reason."

Xzar blinked, then frowned down at her. "You were not there. He was _not_ nice to me at all. Downright terrible, in fact."

"That doesn't mean you should _kill_ him, should it?"

"Yes, it does!" Xzar retorted, waving Imoen's bow around in his right hand. "And I _would_ have killed him, if your meddling brother hadn't interfered!" He pointed with his other hand at Dorean, who carefully stepped away out of the man's reach.

"Well, it's a good thing he did!" replied Imoen, frowning up at Xzar. "You could have killed Kagain!"

"That was the _point_!" Xzar cried, his voice now shrill. "And why does thou protest!? You didn't like him either!"

"I don't kill people just because I don't like them, Xzar!"

Xzar reeled back as though stunned, then stared down at Imoen, his flailing arms falling to his sides. "You don't?"

"No, I don't! Ulraunt was always mean and grouchy to me and Dorean, but I've never once tried to hurt him!"

"Thaatt's not _entirely_ true," said Dorean.

"Shut it," said Imoen, pointing at the dwarf without looking at him. Dorean wisely obeyed. The pink-clad girl continued to return Xzar's frown.

"...you truly mean it," Xzar whispered. After a moment, the wizard shook his head. "No...no. This is...this is wrong."

"What is?" asked Imoen, placing her hands on her hips. "Am I wrong?"

"Yes. Yes, you are. _EVERYTHING!_ " Xzar abruptly screamed the last word, causing everyone but Montaron to flinch. "Everything is wrong! You, all of you, you, it, it is wrong, you are wrong, every..." He breathed rapidly, his chest rising and falling. He then straightened so suddenly that everyone save Montaron flinched again, with Khalid's hand drawing his sword a few inches from its scabbard.

"I need to be alone."

Xzar held out the bow. The moment Imoen took it, he spun on his heel and marched for the exit. The party watched him out of sight, remaining silent for a long moment after he had left.

"I agree with the dwarf on one thing," said Jaheira to Montaron. "Your partner _is_ crazy."

"Tell me somethin' I don't know," the halfling replied, not looking at her.

Dorean looked up and felt a chill run down his spine. Montaron was staring straight at him, with a barely perceptible ghost of a smile on his face.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

 _Striding up to the guest room at the end of the hall, Gorion grasped the handle, pulled the door open without knocking and marched straight in._

 _"Hey," said Winthrop, looking up from the scrolls on his desk with a friendly smile. "Nice of ye ta visit. Hadn't had a chance ta talk with-"_

 _"You are leaving. Today."_

 _Winthrop cocked his head, still smiling in spite of Gorion's grim, stone-faced glare._

 _"I agreed to let you stay for a few days. That was a week ago."_

 _They stared quietly at each other. Winthrop lowered his gaze to the scroll, then slowly rolled it up and set it aside. "Ye don't like me bein' around him."_

 _"He told me he was considering a career as a mercenary. Running his own company." Gorion's eyes narrowed, the fingers of his left hand curling briefly into a fist. Winthrop gave an apologetic shrug._

 _"He asked me what I did fer a livin', an' I told 'im."_

 _"I want you out of here by sundown." Turning on his heel, Gorion stepped towards the open door._

 _"Ye know it's only natural fer him."_

 _Gorion froze with one foot on the doorway._

 _"The books he's readin', too. Homicide mysteries, wars, battles, famous warriors an' killers. Lad's attracted to violence. There's no gettin' around it, Gorion, much as you try to-"_

 _"I changed my mind," said Gorion without turning around. "You have one hour."_

 _"Ye think ye could just keep him here, locked away from the world?" asked Winthrop. His voice was still relatively friendly, but there was a definite edge to it now._

 _After a long moment, Gorion turned around and slowly stepped towards Winthrop._

 _"What the hell. Would_ _ **you**_ _know. About teaching a child?"_

 _He stopped in the centre of the room, less than two paces away from Winthrop's desk. Silence fell between them again, and the very air itself seemed to hold its breath._

 _Winthrop then smiled again and nodded pleasantly._

 _"Ye've got a point there." He looked away from Gorion before speaking again._

 _"I need ta do somethin', and I may need ye help." He looked back to Gorion. The wizard stared coldly at him for several long seconds._

 _"Where?"_

 _"East," replied Winthrop. "Far east."_

 _"Where,_ _ **exactly?**_ _"_

 _Winthrop's smile faded, his expression turning serious._

 _"Rashemen."_

 _Gorion paused, then turned away and walked to one side of the room. He stood quietly for a very long moment, staring at the wall with his arms folded across his chest. When he spoke at last, his voice was cold and hard._

 _"I do this...you and I are done."_

 _Winthrop paused, then breathed deeply through his nose, his broad chest rising and falling. "Ye'll never hear from me again," he said, his voice and expression solemn._

 _Gorion grew quiet again, staring at the wall. He remained that way for several more seconds, then turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him._

..

* * *

 _Well, this is just damn_ _ **peachy**_ _._

Dorean stalked through the streets of Beregost, his sullen, glowering expression bringing him closer to the stereotypical image of his race.

 _My father's dead, I have a bounty on my head, the people I'm travelling with all want to kill each other, and the only exception among them doesn't seem to notice or care._

He glanced at Imoen, who was walking beside him as always. "Stop fidgeting," he snapped irritably.

"I can't help it! It's just too tight," Imoen complained, tugging at the sleeve of her newly-acquired gambeson. "It's your fault for not letting them take my measurements," she added with a frown.

"We don't have time for that," Dorean replied. "Kagain gave us a half-hour."

"So what if we're a little late?" asked Imoen, squirming uncomfortably and pulling at the gambeson's collar. "A few more minutes couldn't hurt."

"Could it?" said Dorean. "One of us just tried to kill him, _and_ we're going to meet him when he'll be surrounded by his own men. I'd say being late to this meeting isn't going to help his opinion of us." _At least Xzar won't be there._

Imoen's face fell, and she stopped fidgeting with her armour, lowering her hands to her sides. Dorean paused, then looked away from her. He felt guilty for snapping at her, and it only added to his vexation. Rather than risk looking behind him to check on Khalid and Jaheira, he settled for walking in sullen silence.

At the front of the group, Montaron briefly glanced over his shoulder at Dorean and Imoen before facing forward again. Khalid and Jaheira glanced sidways at each other, then at the silent duo in front of them.

"She _is_ right. About the a-armour," said Khalid. "We could g-go back and replace it, if y-you wish."

"Let us attend this meeting first," said Jaheira, her tone softer than usual. "I agree that arriving on time would be prudent, considering the dwarf's mood." She paused. "And if his intentions prove ill, we will protect you, be assured of that." Dorean and Imoen both turned to look at her. She nodded to them, her expression dour and unsmiling. "Both of you," she added, looking directly at Dorean.

With his head turned to look at Jaheira, Dorean suddenly collided with something in front. Panic seized him for an instant as he leaped backwards almost into Khalid, and it was a few seconds before his heart remembered to keep beating.

Montaron had stopped suddenly and was now standing very still.

"Monty?" said Imoen. "What's wrong?"

The halfling did not respond, even to snap at her about the disliked nickname. He remained standing, his eyes fixed straight-ahead and as unmoving as the rest of him. Paranoia crept onto Dorean, and his gray eyes slowly moved from left to right, studying each and every face around them.

After a moment, Montaron simply resumed walking. Dorean and Imoen stared after him, and the latter turned to look at the half-elves behind them.

"What was that about?"

Neither of them had an answer for her. After a few seconds, they all hurried to catch up to Montaron before the small man was swallowed up by the crowds.

..

* * *

"Alright. They are moving again."

Releasing the breath he was unaware that he had been holding, Eldoth eased his chin off of Safana's shoulder.

"He is a sharp one," said Safana. "Good instincts."

"And dangerous," added Eldoth, stepping away from in front of the woman and then turning around to walk beside her.

"Is that fear I sense, Eldoth Kron?" Safana teased with a cruel smirk. The bard's eye-lids lowered for an instant before he smiled in return.

"I will not lie to you, my dear," he said languidly. "I admit that the halfling makes me feel slightly... less at ease than I usually am." His tone became more serious. "He might be a difficult one to deal with."

Safana smiled and looped her forearm around his elbow, creating the image of a happy couple out for a walk. "If fortune favours us, we may not have to. The woman clearly wishes him ill."

Leaning his head back, Eldoth regarded Jaheira, his lips twisting in a combination of a smirk and grimace. "Seems to me like the type who wishes **everyone** ill."

"Ooohh," trilled Safana. "I sense the scent of newly-born love."

Eldoth chuckled. "You wound me, my dear. As if I would have eyes for any other but you."

"But of course," she replied smoothly, her sarcasm obvious. They exchanged heavy-lidded eyes and half-smiles.

"The husband probably won't be much of a problem," said Eldoth, sneering at Khalid. "He'll be easy for someone of your calibre."

Safana's eyes lingered on the half-elf in question, and for a few seconds, her smug expression faltered.

Her demeanour swiftly returned as she sensed Eldoth turning his head to look at her.

"Yes, he would be," she said quickly. "Though I would prefer that his wife not be present if it comes to it."

Eldoth frowned, sensing that he may have missed something. Shrugging it off a half-second later, he turned his attention to the duo in the middle of the group.

"That one is a virgin."

Safana raised her eyebrows at him before turning to look at Imoen. "Really?" she asked, looking back at Eldoth with a mocking smile. "Your confidence in your perception of women borders on arrogance, Eldoth Kron."

"Perhaps, but it hasn't failed me yet," Eldoth replied with a cocky grin. His eyes narrowed and his grin became lopsided as he regarded the back of the girl's head. "She wouldn't be a challenge."

Safana glanced sideways at him, her face draining slightly of emotion for a few brief seconds, before looking at the final person in the group.

"Which leaves us with our main prize."

Eldoth smirked and gave a short huff. "Not much of a prize to me."

"Yet to someone, it is worth a thousand gold." Safana tilted her head, causing a curtain of her hair to flow across her face, and smiled. "Just leave him to me, Eldoth."

The bard raised his eyebrow at her. "Have you ever seduced a dwarf before?"

She tittered softly, her smile widening. "Do not underestimate me, Eldoth Kron."

Eldoth's other eyebrow rose to join the first, and for a moment he contemplated his partner-in-crime. "Indeed not, my dear."

Safana lowered her head for a moment, then lifted it to look at her partner. "Have _you_ seduced a dwarf lady?"

In the instant before he responded, Eldoth's expression clouded and his eyes glazed over, his face becoming not unlike that of the masks worn by nobles and jesters. Then it passed, and he answered Safana's teasing inquiry with another cocky smile.

"Eldoth Kron!" said Safana with exaggerated wonder. "I knew you were a man of many talents, but I never thought of you as a miracle-worker."

Smirking arrogantly, Eldoth looked away and focused on the party once more.

"This will be quite the challenge," he said after a moment.

"That's what makes it fun," replied Safana. The duo walked arm-in-arm, following their quarry through the Beregost streets. After over a minute, Eldoth cocked his head quizzically.

"Are we forgetting someone?"

"The other dwarf?"

"No...not him," said Eldoth hesitantly. "The, the messy-haired one. The one who left the range by himself."

"Ah. Yes. That one," said Safana. She paused. "Leave him for later. Let us see where these people will take us for now."

Eldoth hesitated, then nodded.

About a dozen paces behind them, an old, wrinkle-faced peddler hobbled through the streets, nodding in apology whenever his large rucksack bumped into someone.

His worn, tattered tunic flowed down to his ankles, concealing the bright green robes underneath.

..

* * *

"So this is the Red Sheaf?" said Imoen, looking up at the signboard displaying two crimson-coloured bundles of grain stalks. "Doesn't look nearly as shady as Volo says."

Dorean frowned, his ears twitching as he picked up the racket coming from the building. He glanced at Montaron whose second abrupt halt in their journey through the town was the reason for their brief delay. The halfling was staring up at the inn, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he glanced back at the rest of the party, then simply headed for the front entrance.

A woman was standing on the porch. Dorean blinked upon recognizing the familiar outfit worn by the Dented Shields company, then blinked again when he looked up at her face.

She was a half-elf, judging by her pointed ears, but her height, build and most of all the two fangs protruding from behind her bottom lip suggested that the other half of her parentage was likely of the orcish persuasion.

Upon seeing them, she ran a hand across the top of her blond, close-cropped hair and stepped forward.

"Montaron," she greeted, her voice low and deep. The halfling silently returned her nod. The woman's eyes moved to the rest of the party and lingered on Dorean and Imoen. For a few seconds, a frown creased her brow. Then she turned around, giving Dorean a good view of the scimitar on her back. From the size of the scabbard and pommel, the weapon must be massive.

The dwarf hesitated, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt Imoen's hand grasp and gently squeeze his own. Momentarily regretting wearing his gloves, Dorean returned the squeeze, then opened his eyes and followed Montaron into the inn.

..

* * *

The noise from outside the building became a cacophony to their ears the instant they stepped within.

Aside from a small number of merchants and peasants, the large, spacious common room was occupied almost entirely by Dented Shield mercenaries.

Moving his eyes from left to right, Dorean counted over twenty of them before focusing on the dwarf standing on a table in their midst.

Noticing the party, Kagain nodded briefly to his half-elf, half-orc subordinate before lifting his chin and bellowing at the top of his lungs.

 _"SHUT UP!"_

In the silence that followed, the woman silently pointed at a table situated in a corner at the end of the common room before moving to stand beside Kagain's table.

"Now," said the mercenary leader. "I understand ya have some concerns."

"Concerns?" said one of the men. "I think what we have right now counts as more than just concerns."

"There's bad talk goin' around," another piped up. "Says we aren't fit for nothing other than taking money from folks and then gettin' them killed. Says we oughta be run outta town."

"People say all kinds of shit," replied Kagain roughly, glancing for a half-second at Dorean's party making their way to their designated table. "More so the idiots, an' this town's fulla them. Don't pay them any mind."

"They're certainly payin' us a lotta mind," another mercenary muttered loudly. "The looks I got on me way here, I thought the whole friggin' town was gonna jump me."

"Everyone ya ever met has wanted ta jump ya," Kagain retorted, causing a light chorus of mocking laughter. "An' that includes ya mother. Now shut up an' listen!"

"An inspiring leader," Jaheira droned, reaching the table first and taking a seat. The others followed suit, Dorean releasing the grip that he had been maintaining on his belt knife as soon as he had entered the inn.

"I don't give a xvart's arse what ya have been hearin', thinkin', or seein' today, " said Kagain, placing his hands on his broad hips. "We've got a job, an' that's all you lot should be soddin' concernin' yourselves with for now." He paused for a moment to look around the sea of faces. "Caravan, same as always. Merchants are willin' ta pay us three times our usual price. We get it done an' done right, all of ya _concerns_ ," he dragged out the word as his men began to speak up again. "Will be gone before ya know it. Now, anyone of yas got any more _concerns_ to share before I give out ya roles?"

"I might have some, yeah," said a gruff, slightly muffled voice. All eyes turned to a auburn-haired dwarf clambering onto a table a dozen paces from Kagain's. "Might be a little important, to the company an' all."

Dorean cocked his head as he contemplated this new dwarf; like Kagain, he was carrying an axe and shield, and wearing chain-mail and a helmet, though the latter was nowhere near as stylish as the mercenary leader's.

Kagain gave a sneer that was somehow clearly visible despite his thick beard. "That was a rhetorical question, ya moron. Get down from there an' shut-."

"Oh, I will. Just as soon as you tell us what happened to our people on the road up north of here."

The murmuring began again, low and ominous this time. Kagain stared quietly at his fellow dwarven mercenary before lifting his head, looking around him, and speaking in a voice as blank as his face.

"Ya all know what happened. They screwed up."

"Maybe," replied the auburn-haired dwarf. "Or maybe it was _you_ that screwed up."

The silence that followed was broken by the shuffling of chairs and feet as merchants and other non-mercenary patrons began their hurried departure from the Red Sheaf. Dorean suddenly became aware of the distance between his group's table and the exit.

"Ten men for a six wagon caravan, Kagain? _Ten?_ There should've been at least twenty, fifteen at _most_ if we're stretchin' it! Why the hell weren't more of us assigned to it!?"

There were many nods and murmurs among the mercenaries.

"I'll tell you why," said the dwarf, his voice growing louder. "It's cos _that_ greedy old bastard is stretchin' us thin; makin' us do too many jobs at a time!"

"Karlat's right!" shouted a youthful mercenary, leaping to his feet and pointing an accusing finger at Kagain. "The one we had two months ago, from here to Athkatla? He only put twelve of us on it! For an eight-wagon! We lost _seven_ people 'cos'o him!"

"I didn't hear ya whinin' when ya were collectin' yer pay, _boy_ ," Kagain snarled, baring his teeth.

"That's because he didn't know then just how much of a chiseler you are," said Karlat.

Kagain's face slackened and his eyes went wide. "What did ya just call me?"

The tension in the room could now be cut with a knife. More and more of the mercenaries were getting to their feet.

"The pay, Kagain," said Karlat, folding his arms and lifting his chin. "Tell these people how much of a share you've been gettin' compared to the rest. Tell them."

Kagain fell silent. So did most of the men around him.

"Don't want to?" said Karlat. "Then I will." He paused. "Half. Half of _all_ the pay from _all_ of our jobs."

The murmuring started again, louder and angrier than before.

"Is it true, _Boss_?" Karlat asked, mockingly accentuating the last word and raising his voice to be heard above the din. "Tell us. Tell your men, whose lives you've risked over and over and _over and over_. Tell them if what I said is true! _Tell them!"_

Kagain's head moved slowly from left to right and back like a pendulum, surveying the numerous faces staring back at him. Next to him, the half-elf, half-orc woman glanced at her leader, her expression unreadable.

When he finally spoke, Kagain's face had contorted into an ugly sneer.

"If ya can't handle it, then don't. Get outta here an' I'll find someone else who can."

"That why you brought them!?" shouted Karlat, pointing at Dorean's table.

"We have to get out of here," Dorean hissed, lowering his hooded head as roughly thirty heavily-armed faces turned towards them.

"Door's too far," Khalid whispered, surreptitiously unsheathing his sword from below the table.

"Both of you listen," said Jaheira. Dorean and Imoen looked at her. "As soon as it starts, get to the second floor," she gestured with her head to the staircase in the corner. "Khalid and I will cover you."

Imoen hesitated, her eyes darting over the increasingly agitated mercenaries, then nodded. "O...okay. What about-"

She and the rest of the party looked around. Montaron had vanished.

"You've never brought in outsiders before, not once!" Karlat shouted. "Care to explain why, _Boss_? Thinkin' of joinin' up with someone else, maybe!?"

Kagain's nostrils flared. He looked around again at the sea of faces, many more of which were now looking back with open hostility.

"Know what I think, lads!?" said Karlat. "I think it's time we had a change o' leadership around here!"

A chorus of agreement rose from the men around him. Kagain went very still, his head lowering and his chin resting against his broad chest. From the corner of his eye, Dorean noticed the innkeeper, a thin, balding man, half-crouching behind the counter along the east wall, his eyes wide and terrified.

After a long moment, Kagain lifted his head, staring straight at the other dwarf across the room.

"...so ya wanna be the new boss, eh, Karlat?" He spread his arms. "Then come an' get it."

For six long seconds, no one moved or spoke.

"At 'im, lads!"

At Karlat's words, over a dozen weapons were drawn from their scabbards amid a chorus of battle-cries .

"Kill the traitors!" Kagain screamed. The remaining mercenaries echoed his cry, drawing their weapons in answer to the mutineers.

The common room erupted. Almost immediately, five men at the edge of the skirmish made a beeline for Dorean's group. As Khalid kicked the table away and moved to stand between them and the rest of the party, Jaheira briefly turned to look behind her. Her eyes widened upon seeing that while Dorean had already risen off his seat, Imoen was still frozen in place.

 _"Go now!"_

Dorean reached up and took hold of Imoen's arm to pull her out of her chair. In that instant, a throwing axe whizzed across the room. The blade grazed his head, tearing hair and flesh from his temple, and the dwarf tumbled to the floor, taking Imoen with him.

Screaming Dorean's name, Imoen looked up as a shadow fell across them. Her face paled at the sight of the man standing over them with sword raised. He then gave a sudden, violent jerk, his eyes and mouth opening in surprise.

Removing his knife from the mercenary's side and stepping deftly around his falling body, Montaron grabbed Imoen roughly by the collar.

Looking up with one hand over his wound, Dorean saw the halfling dragging his roommate to and up the stairs. With a grunt of pain, he staggered to his feet, which saved him from Karlat's axe as it struck the ground where his head had been. Cursing in dwarvish, the mutineer lifted his axe and swung again in a horizontal arc, the blade missing Dorean by inches as he leaped backwards to avoid its deadly kiss.

With another curse, Karlat made to attempt another swing, then turned at the last second and raised his shield to block Jaheira's quarterstaff. The Tethyrian was then immediately distracted by two mercenaries attacking from behind.

For a half-second, Dorean's eyes went to Montaron violently pulling Imoen up the stairs.

 _If you hurt her..._

He then turned and ran from the advancing Karlat towards the open door in the east wall, ducking and dodging under and past flailing legs and weapons.

..

* * *

"Let me go! He's down there, I have to-"

Already bent over by the halfling's grip on her collar, Imoen's resistance was answered by him jerking violently on it, nearly tearing a chunk of her shirt from the neckline of her gambeson and sending her falling onto her stomach.

Still tightly gripping her collar, Montaron dragged the struggling girl across the floor. He ignored her attempts to free herself, not flinching in the slightest when she dug her fingernails into his wrist.

Stopping in front of a door at the end of the corridor, he released his grip on her and then quickly planted a foot on her chest. As she thrashed below him, he produced a key from his pocket, unlocked the door, pushed it open, then grabbed Imoen again and unceremoniously tossed her into the room.

He pulled the door closed just as she reached it, turned the key and snapped it off in the lock, then turned back and swiftly returned the way he came.

..

* * *

With blood pounding in his ears, Dorean ran down the corridor leading to the back of the inn. Speeding through the kitchen and ignoring the high-pitched shrieks of the barmaids and cook, he entered a second corridor and immediately made for the nearest door. A snarl escaped through his beard when the knob refused to turn.

A second chorus of high-pitched shrieks mixed with loud, ironclad footsteps spurred him to the next door, then the next.

 _Come on, come on, come ON..._

Reaching the final door at the end, Dorean grasped the handle and released his held breath when it turned. Shoving the door open with his shoulder, the first thing he saw was the innkeeper standing in an open doorway in the opposite wall, his hands grasping the edges of a large, hinged section of it. The man's eyes bugged out upon seeing him, and he redoubled his efforts to close the secret door.

Crossing the room at a run, Dorean leaped through the opening an instant before the innkeeper could close it enough to deny him passage.

"Get out!" The old man shouted, reaching down and grabbing Dorean by the shoulders. _"Get ou-!"_

Dorean did not hesitate; he had already drawn his belt knife. The blade plunged upwards into the left side of the old man's belly just below his ribs, piercing his heart.

With a choked cry, the innkeeper fell to his knees. Prising the man's hands off his shoulders, Dorean stabbed him again in the side of the neck, then quickly turned and pulled the door closed. He then retrieved his knife and stood very still, listening to the sound of stomping footsteps beyond the closed wall.

After a long moment, they receded away. Breathing deeply and wiping the blood flowing from his temple into his right eye, Dorean glanced down at the innkeeper. Quickly confirming that the man was truly dead, he then placed his hands on the wall and pushed. He gave up after a few more attempts with a frustrated growl and turned around to look at the stairs leading downward.

 _There has to be another way out._ Heglanced again at the innkeeper. _He wouldn't have sealed himself in here._

He gave a deep, low breath, his expression now a determined grimace.

 _Find a way out of here, get to Imoen. Worry about everything else later._

Nodding to himself, Dorean descended into the gloom.

..

* * *

Imoen ceased pounding on the door to rub her reddened hands, holding them close to her chest to quell her hyperventilating.

 _Gotta stay calm...gotta stay calm, just like he taught me._

She took deep, drawn-out breaths, counting slowly to three between each.

 _Won't get out by banging on it. Have to find another way._ She looked quickly around the room. Aside from a window too small for her to fit through, there did not seem to be any other exit.

"No, no, no, no," she muttered aloud, running her arms as anxiety began flooding her senses again. "Think, Imzy, think..."

She paused, then placed Gorion's pack on the floor. Fumbling with the strings and uttering a curse that would have earned her a week's worth of extra chores from Winthrop, Imoen opened the pack.

The first thing she saw in it were three scrolls resting on top of the other items. Taking them, Imoen quickly unrolled them on the floor and scanned their contents.

 _Armor, Magic Missile, Burning Hands._

At that moment, a thought occurred to her that it was strange for a wizard as skilled as Gorion to be carrying scrolls for such low-level spells. She shook her head, brushing it from her mind. Her eyes lingered on the Burning Hands scroll, and she looked up at the locked door.

 _Better not. Smoke might kill me first, or worse, I burn the whole place down._

Grabbing the Magic Missile scroll, she stood up and faced the door. Taking two deep breaths and counting to three between each, she then held the scroll in both hands at arm's length.

 _Just like he taught me.._

Raising her chin, Imoen recited the incantation loudly and clearly. The scroll disintegrated, transforming into a shimmering ball of brilliant, whitish-pink light.

 _Yes!_

Elated by her success, she aimed and released the charged spell at the door lock. For a single second, it appeared to be unaffected. Then, in an almost reluctant fashion, it partially broke away from the frame.

Taking a step back, Imoen sprang forward, throwing all of her weight against the door. It gave way with a deafening crack of wood, and she landed in a heap across the now-open doorway.

Staggering to her feet and clutching her shoulder, Imoen ran with as much speed as she could muster, leaving Gorion's pack and the two remaining scrolls in the room.

..

* * *

The common room of the Red Sheaf, well-regarded and liked for its cleanliness and quiet atmosphere, was now a scene of gore and carnage. Men lay dead or dying in spreading pools of blood, smashed furniture and body parts.

Breathing heavily and keeping her bloodied quarterstaff at the ready, Jaheira looked over herself for any serious wounds; there was a dark, spreading bruise on her forearm from a mace whose swing she had only managed to partially avoid, but aside from a few minor cuts, she was relatively intact.

Her eyes swept over the common room; the battle had yet to reach its end, but the total number of mercenaries still standing was now down to ten at most, Kagain and the female half-elf/orc among them.

Jaheira then looked at her husband standing about seven paces away; his shield and armour were battered and blood-stained, but he seemed otherwise unhurt. Having lost his sword while fighting three opponents simultaneously, Khalid was now wielding a broken chair.

Slamming his shield into an already wounded mutineer's face, he then swung the chair down onto the man's head three times, smashing it into a pulp.

Jaheira watched him for a moment, her expression glazed and downcast, before spotting movement from the corner of her eye. She looked up and saw the pink-clad girl hurtling down the stairs.

"Imoen!"

Khalid stopped in mid-swing and whirled around. Imoen jumped down the last five steps and ran up to the duo, barely avoiding tripping on a severed arm.

"I told you to-" Jaheira began angrily.

"Where's Dorean?!"

Khalid and Jaheira froze.

"We have to find him!" Imoen shouted, trembling and bouncing up and down frantically on the balls of her feet. "He could be hurt, or being attacked, or-"

"I saw him running for the back room," said Jaheira. Imoen immediately made to move past her, and she took hold of the girl's right arm. "Imoen, don't-"

"Let me go!" Imoen attempted to wrench free from Jaheira's grip. As the latter fought to keep the former restrained, her eyes met Khalid's, and he nodded.

"I will go. Keep her safe!" With that, the Calishite turned and ran for the door. Jaheira watched him leave, then turned a fierce, no-nonsense stare onto Imoen.

"Back upstairs, _now_."

Imoen met her gaze with a furious, defiant glare of her own. With a loud huff of her nostrils, Jaheira forcibly turned her around and frogmarched her back towards and up the stairs, Kagain's loud cursing and the squelch of his axe as he downed another mutineer following them.

..

* * *

 _Look like Volothamp wasn't lying about this place_ , Dorean mused, looking around the cavern. _Maybe he doesn't embellish his stories after all._ He eyed the crates and boxes stacked along the walls. _Smuggled goods?_ He gave a light sniff, and his nose wrinkled. _Or narcotics?_

Suddenly he stopped and turned around.

 _Did I hear something?_

Bending his knees slightly and making as little noise as he could, Dorean slowly drew his crossbow and a bolt from his quiver. He loaded the weapon, then went very still. For an entire minute, he remained that way; knees bent, crossbow at the ready, and moving nothing but his eyes.

Finally, he eased from his stance, then quickly turned around and continued to follow the dark passage.

 _Gotta find a way out of here. Maybe there's a-_

There was no warning; nothing that alerted him to it just before it happened. In an instant, his entire body suddenly spasmed as waves of electricity slammed into and coursed throughout his small frame.

His knees hit the floor, followed by his face. The world spun around and around in his head, and it was all he could do not to pass out.

In the midst of his own gasps and heaves, he heard a voice, seeming to come from a distance away and at the same time in his own head.

"...at the end of your rope, I wager."

Something inside him _screamed_ at him to get up, to stand up now or die. Dorean raised himself up on his knees, gritting his teeth in pain.

He had to blink several times before his vision cleared, revealing the auburned-haired dwarf standing ten paces away from him with axe and shield in hand.

"Wha...what was that?" Dorean forced himself to ask. Karlat smirked in response.

"Magic barrier," Karlat answered with a smirk. "That old codger sure knows how to make 'em. Might be wrong, but I'm guessin' you don't have the means to pass through it." He paused. "Well, this ain't anything personal, you understand, but I'm afraid your time on this here ball of mud is just about done."

From the corner of his eye, Dorean noticed his loaded crossbow lying on the ground between them.

 _...gotta stall him._

"Why...why are you doing this?" He rasped, getting shakily to his feet. "I've done nothing to you."

Karlat shrugged, his smirk still firmly in place. "Done nothing to anyone, far as I know. Don't matter one whit to me. A price is a price and a head is a head, and whenever the two meet, there's old Karlat makin' his living." He gave a twirl of the axe in his right hand. "Like I said, it's nothing personal."

He began to step forward, his shield moving in front of him, when Dorean raised his right hand.

"Wait! Just...wait. Just listen," he pleaded hoarsely. "Whatever you're being...being paid..." Dorean staggered, putting more into it than he actually felt. "I can double it."

Karlat stopped and eyed the smaller dwarf. "Will you now?" After a moment, he shook his head and gave a contemptuous snort. "Somehow I doubt it, but then I don't meet a lot of honest people in this business. Never have the money on them, and never come back if they say they're going to go get it."

"I'll get you the money!" Dorean replied, inserting desperation into his tone. "I swear it by all the gods! Just let me l-live! Let me live and I'll get you your money! I'll, I'll even give you something, something to prove you've killed me! You can get my money AND collect the bounty! Just please don't kill me _, please_..."

Tears appeared at the corners of Dorean's eyes as his voice trailed off into mewling sobs. Karlat's beard parted to reveal his lips as he sneered at the pleading dwarf. "Maybe you will, maybe not. It doesn't matter though. I'd never take your panic money over a proven contract. It's just not sound business." He stepped forward again. "Now quit your crying and face your end like a-"

Dorean's left hand flew up from one of the pouches in his belt. Karlat's contemptuous sneer instantly turned into a howl of anguish as he lurched backwards, dropping his weapon and shield as he brought his hands up to his eyes.

Swooping forward and picking his crossbow, Dorean bent down on one knee, brought it to his shoulder, and aimed forward and up at Karlat's open, screaming mouth.

A half-second before he fired, a trickle of blood worked its way from the wound in his temple into his eye, forcing him to blink.

Karlat's instincts may have kicked in, or he may have heard the click of the weapon, but somehow, he dove to the floor the instant that Dorean pulled the trigger. The bolt struck his helmet at an angle, skimming across it to land somewhere in the cavern beyond.

Dorean cursed and hurriedly reached for another bolt. With an animalistic roar, Karlat charged blindly forward. His ironclad head slammed into Dorean's chest, sending the crossbow spinning up into the air. Stars appeared in the smaller dwarf's eyes as the back of his unprotected head smacked against the stone floor.

Then Karlat was crawling forward, his hands grasping and tearing at his trousers and shirt. Dorean lashed out with boots and knees, his hands desperately seeking one of his knives. As the larger dwarf's head drew level with his own, Dorean drew his belt knife and wildly stabbed at his chest. The blade failed to penetrate deep, stopped by the chain-mail, and with a cry of pain, Karlat grabbed Dorean's knife-hand. The latter screamed as the man viciously tightened his grip on his fingers. The knife slipped from his grasp and slid across his body to the floor.

"You little piece of sh- _aaahhhhh!"_ Karlat's curse was cut off as Dorean dug the thumb of his free hand into the man's shredded eye, pressing at the shards of glass he had thrown earlier. Howling in pain and fury, the assassin seized hold of Dorean's wrist and wrenched both of his hands away from his face. He then drew his helmed head back and snapped forward.

The helmet smashed into Dorean's face, shattering his large nose and causing his head to bounce sickeningly off the stone floor again. Fingers closed around Dorean's throat, squeezing tight.

 _I'm not dying here, I'm NOT DYING-!_

With a sudden burst of strength, Dorean flicked his wrist, his right hand screaming in protest, and brought his sleeve-knife up into Karlat's jaw.

The blade pierced deep enough to illicit another enraged bellow from Karlat, but stuck halfway through.

 _His damned beard-_

Karlat grabbed his hand and crushed his fingers again, forcing Dorean to relinquish another one of his knives. His head snapped backward and then forward, smashing Dorean's face a second time. The assassin's hands closed around his throat once more.

 _Can't die here. Can't d-_

His strength was gone. Weakly holding onto Karlat's wrists and choking feebly for air, Dorean's already-blurred vision began to dim. Karlat's face swam out of focus, and darkness crept at the edge of his eyes.

 _...a skull?_

The pressure on his throat suddenly lifted, and the darkness fled. Karlat went stock-still for a few seconds, foam appearing between his lips, before falling face-down on top of him.

Dorean lay still, too weak to even move his head.

Something loomed into view, looking down at him. Dorean could only stare back, unable to make out its features.

His vision began to clear just as the fatigue of his ordeal caught up with him. The last thing he saw before he fainted away was Montaron rolling the twitching body of Karlat off of him.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Dorean opened his eyes, blinking at the vaguely familiar ceiling. It took him almost a minute to realize that he was lying on a bed.

 _Was it all just a bad dream?_

Noticing something from the corner of his eye, the dwarf turned his head and spotted Gorion only a half dozen paces away. He immediately tried to get up but his body refused to budge. Grunting in surprise, Dorean futilely willed himself to move, then stopped when he saw that Gorion was speaking to someone; another dwarf, shorter and thinner than himself.

He hesitated. Then, his heart sinking, he slowly lowered his head back onto the pillow.

 _No._ _ **This**_ _is a dream._

He remained still for a moment, wallowing in despondence, then reluctantly moved his eyes to observe the scene before him.

He watching Gorion, dressed for travel and carrying a rucksack, giving his younger self a written list of instructions.

 _I remember this_... _Twenty years ago. You were gone for three months.. And during that time, I-_

His eyes misted over as his mind automatically went blank. With a wordless sigh, he turned his head towards the ceiling.

 _Even in a dream, huh? Guess I can't call that a bad thing._

"It shouldn't take very long," said Gorion. "I will return as soon as I can."

Young Dorean did not respond. He kept his head down, staring blankly at the list Gorion had given him, silent and emotionless.

 _I don't know if I was angry at him for leaving me here. Or...if I felt anything at all._

Standing up, Gorion attempted to speak again but then closed his mouth. He looked down sadly at the little dwarf, then slowly turned away.

Lifting his head off the pillow, Dorean watched his foster father leave the room. There were still traces of red in his greying hair.

 _You never told me about it. Where you went, what you did._ His gaze lowered to his own chest, upon which lay the clasp of his cloak. He then laid his head back and stared up at the ceiling.

"So much that you never told me," he said softly. "And now you never will."

Something moved in the corner of his eye again. He turned his head to look.

His younger self was standing next to the bed, staring straight at him.

White-hot, stabbing pain lanced outwards from deep within his chest. His limbs twitching violently, Dorean's eyes widened in terror as they met those of his younger self.

Twin pools of gold filled his vision, blinding him.

..

* * *

The golden light suddenly receded to reveal Jaheira looming over him.

Her hands were around his neck.

For one second, Dorean stared at her. With a hoarse cry, he thrashed out like a cornered animal. The half-elf swiftly took hold of his shoulders, pinning him onto the bed.

"Be still, I-" Jaheira saw his left hand reach down to his boot and barely leapt back just in time to avoid his dagger.

Slashing wildly, Dorean rose quickly off the bed and made to lunge at her.

 _Get her_ _ **now**_ _while she's unarmed, get her-!_

"Dorean!"

He froze in mid-lunge, and in that instant, a pink-clad mass appeared in front of him, hands grasping at his shoulders.

"It's okay! You're okay now, she's here to help!"

Dorean stared at her. Then pain shot through his entire upper body, from his chest to his hands. The dagger clattered onto the floor as he fell back onto the bed, gasping for air.

Imoen leaned over him, then turned anxiously to Jaheira. For a few seconds, the latter hesitated, her expression blank. Then she stepped forward.

"Move aside."

Shifting next to the head of the bed, Imoen lowered her face closer to Dorean's.

"Lie still, okay?" she implored, her voice trembling.

For a half-second, Jaheira glanced at them both. Then she placed her hands on Dorean's neck again. The dwarf's hands twitched, his eyes fixed on hers. She returned his gaze coolly, applying her healing magic.

After twenty seconds which felt to Dorean like over a minute, the suffocating pressure in his throat lifted, along with pain in his chest.

Jaheira then reached for his face, causing the dwarf to flinch violently and his left hand to curl into a fist. Maintaining eye contact, she placed her hand over his nose and mouth, and Dorean realized that his face was covered in blood. Tingles of pain rippled through it like prickling needles as she repaired his broken nose.

Finally, still keeping her eyes on his, Jaheira placed her hands on his own. A different type of pain, slight and oddly soothing, flowed through his fingers, palms and wrists, mending the damage caused by Karlat.

"It is done," she said flatly, standing up and stepping back away from the bed. Dorean hesitated, glanced at Imoen, then slowly sat up.

He immediately noticed Khalid standing near the open doorway, holding Jaheira's quarterstaff. His sword and shield were gone.

"He found and carried you here as quickly as he could manage," said Jaheira, seeing Dorean looking at him. Her expression, like her voice, was cold and blank. "Your trachea had been damaged. You were beginning to suffocate."

"Your face had gone blue," said Imoen, sitting down in the chair that Jaheira had quickly vacated when Dorean regained consciousness. "I thought you were dying."

 _I_ _ **was**_ _._

Dorean lowered his gaze for a moment, then looked at Khalid and bowed his head.

"Thank you, Khalid. You saved my life."

The Calishite's eyes widened, and he looked from Dorean to Imoen and Jaheira. He then lowered his head, looking down at the floor.

"N-no n-need t-t-to thank me. I-it was the l-least I c-c-could do."

Dorean stared at him for a moment before becoming very aware that Jaheira had not taken her eyes off him ever since he woke up and attacked her. Imoen did not seem to have noticed; she was standing next to Dorean, one hand rubbing his back while checking his throat and nose with the other.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I...don't know what I was thinking."

Jaheira stared coldly at him, then silently went over to stand next to and peek out the small window. Dorean became acutely aware of the noise emitting from outside.

"A large crowd and a score of Flaming Fist mercenaries," said Jaheira. "They appear to be surrounding the inn."

 _Shit._ "What do we do?" asked Dorean.

Jaheira simply stared at him again. Dorean became uncomfortably aware of the fact that Khalid was now standing directly between him, Imoen and the door.

"They're downstairs," said Khalid, turning around and moving to stand in the doorway. "And they're talking to Kagain."

"I can't hear anything," said Imoen. "Oh. Elven hearing, right."

"Be quiet, child," said Jaheira, moving to stand beside her husband. Imoen frowned at her. Her right hand was still rubbing Dorean's back. The dwarf glanced at his roommate, but did not attempt to stop it. They both waited quietly, watching the two Harpers listen to the commotion below.

"It _is_ Kagain," whispered Imoen. "Listen."

Dorean did not need to focus; as muffled as it was by the distance and floor between them, Kagain's loud, gruff voice was very much discernable.

"It's a temple guard," said Khalid. "He wants Kagain to go see the governor immediately, and..." He hesitated. "And to bring his new partners."

He and Jaheira exchanged looks. Dorean did the same with Imoen, then slowly slid off the bed and retrieved his dagger, turning it to hide the blade behind his hand.

"What'd Kagain say?" asked Imoen as she heard the dwarven mercenary's voice again.

Khalid squinted in concentration for a moment before leaning back with a look of slight sheepishness.

"...something not very nice," he answered. He went grim and quiet again. Dorean and Imoen heard the sounds of movement below. They both recognized it; a group of people fanning out to form a line.

Silence lingered for a moment, in the room and below. Then it was broken by loud, clanking, ironshod footsteps. His senses heightened by the tension and from years of listening out for approaching footsteps in Candlekeep, Dorean recognized them as Kagain's.

Half a minute later, the dwarf appeared in the doorway. His armour, helmet, shield, axe and beard were all blood-spattered, and his face bore an ugly expression. For a long moment, he simply glared at the four of them, his fingers curling around the haft of his axe.

"Ya heard, right?" he said, looking up at Khalid and Jaheira. "Hurry up an' get down then."

Dorean hesitated, then raised his hand. "I...really don't think it'll be a good idea for me to do that."

A muscle twitched in Kagain's jaw. He pointed the spike of his axe at him.

"I ain't in the soddin' mood fer this," he growled. "Get down there _now_ , before I-"

He saw their eyes widen and move to look behind him, and whirled around with axe and shield raised.

Xzar was standing right behind him.

Kagain stopped himself just in time, the blade of his axe hovering a few inches from the wizard's chest.

Xzar did not appear to notice; his head slowly turned to look at the doorframe, his gaze lingering on the broken lock. Kagain gaped at him for a few seconds before cursing loudly and lowering his axe.

"What the _hell_ did ya do that for, ya friggin' lunatic!? Are ya _tryin'_ ta get yaself killed!?"

Xzar ignored him. He continued to stare at the lock, his head tilting very slowly to one side. Kagain glared at him, breathing heavily, before looking at the lock himself.

"Which one of ya did this?"

"Urm...that was me," said Imoen. Everyone turned to look at her, Xzar's head swivelling slowly on its tilted axis. "I blasted it."

"With what?" Xzar asked, his voice so soft that it was barely audible. His eyes shone intensely, and Dorean subconsciously fingered the hidden knife in his left hand.

"A scroll," said Imoen. "Magic Missile," she added. She looked around the room and spotted Gorion's pack. "I found it in there."

"Well, why'd ya do that for?" Kagain said loudly. Dorean was suddenly glad that the man's attention was diverted, thus preventing him from seeing the look Xzar directed his way.

"'Cos Monty locked me in, that's why!" Imoen retorted, raising her arms in the air. "He dragged me by my _shirt_ across the floor, and then threw me in here! Like I was just a bag or something! And then he broke the key in the lock!"

Kagain suddenly went quiet, his eyes narrowing intensely at Imoen.

"Where is Montaron now?" he asked softly.

Khalid glanced at Dorean before answering. "Last I saw him, he was in the passage under the inn."

Kagain became even more quiet, his eyes lowering to half-lids. His large, calloused thumb tapped the haft of his axe. His eyes moved from Khalid to Jaheira to Imoen, finally resting on Dorean.

Then he spoke, his voice far too calm.

"Wait here untill I get back. An' if anyone else shows up, keep. Ya mouths. Shut."

He glared intently at them before leaving. Dorean noticed that he took care not to brush against Xzar on the way out.

They stood in silence, watching the wizard brush his index finger over the lock. Nobody, not even Imoen, ventured to ask him why he was dressed in the garb of a peddler.

..

* * *

Moving at a quick stride, Kagain reached the door leading to the storeroom. He pushed it open and swore loudly upon seeing the body of the innkeeper lying on the floor just behind the secret door.

After glancing over his shoulder to ensure that nobody was watching or following him, Kagain stepped through the doorway and pulled it closed behind him. He paused to glower down at the dead man before stepping over the pool of blood and moving quickly down the stairs.

"Montaron?" he called out, stopping at the bottom of the staircase. "Hey, answer me, ya mutt. You in here?"

After a moment, he heard the sound of something being dragged across stone and dirt. Striding down the passage, he soon found its source; Karlat, bound hand and foot by long, thick rope, being dragged by Montaron.

The halfling did not respond at all to Kagain, neither turning around nor speaking at his approach. The dwarf's gaze lingered on him for a few seconds before looking down at Karlat and seeing his shredded face.

"Clangeddin's beard. What happened ta him?"

"Powdered glass."

Kagain gave a grim hiss. "Ya did that?"

"No."

Kagain fell silent, and the sound of dwarf-dragging echoed uninterrupted for several seconds. When he spoke again, his voice was softer and more composed.

"I found the innkeep. That you?"

"No."

Kagain went very still, eyes boring into the halfling's back and his thumb tapping the haft of his axe again. Montaron did not cease pulling the rope, nor did he turn around.

"Ya already know how ta get past the barrier, do ya?"

"Uh-huh."

"So ya've already known about this place."

"Mm."

There was another moment of silence.

"I gotta go," Kagain said at last. He slowly began to turn around, then stopped half-way, facing the wall and not looking at the Zhent or his captive.

"When I get back, I wanna talk ta Karlat. Got some things I'd like ta settle with him." He paused. " An' there's some things I'd like ta talk about with you as well." He paused again. "One'a them bein' the girl."

For a few seconds, Montaron stopped dragging Karlat. Kagain watched him for a moment before he slowly turned around and returned the way he came.

..

* * *

Eldoth Kron was nervous.

He did not enjoy being nervous, and hated to display it. Doing his best to appear mildly curious instead, he watched the party leaving the Red Sheaf, his handsome features creasing into a frown at the sight of the escort of temple guards and Flaming Fist mercenaries.

"We have been gone awhile," he said, his voice calm and detached. "Skie would be getting restless."

"Return to her, then. I will stay with these people."

Eldoth frowned and glanced at Safana; contrary to his own nervousness, the proximity and numbers of armed men only seemed to excite her further; she was staring at the party so intensely that Eldoth became certain that if any of them looked her way, that their cover would be instantly blown.

He was about to take a few steps away from Safana when he noticed something:

The half-elf woman passing a blood-stained sword and shield to her husband, who took them with a grateful smile and handed her a quarterstaff in return.

Upon seeing this, for just a fraction of a second, Safana's proud, confident demeanour faded, and her expression appeared to soften.

Eldoth went still for a long moment, watching his partner-in-crime, before coming to a decision.

"... I think I will stay for now, however. It may be best that we keep our distance this time."

Safana nodded distractedly, her attention still focused on the party. She started to tail them without looking to see if Eldoth would follow her.

The bard watched her with narrowed eyes, then stepped forward beside her and looped her arm in his.

..

* * *

"Are you _sure_ you're okay?" Imoen asked.

"I'm sure."

"Are you feeling dizzy? Can you walk?"

"I'm walking _now,_ Imoen."

"I could c-c-carry you," Khalid said meekly.

Dorean froze as though struck by a lightning bolt, his face instantly going blank.

The entire party came to a halt, along with the guards and mercenaries escorting them. Khalid's eyes darted wildly from Dorean to Jaheira and Imoen.

"D-d-d-did I s-say s-s-something wrong?" He paled upon seeing that the dwarf's entire body was trembling.

The memory of being borne across the causeway from Candlekeep came rushing to the front of Dorean's mind. Khalid's offer resounded in his head, over and over. Dark, ugly thoughts coursed through his mind.

 _Did you know? Did you see him carry me across? Is this why you said it now? Are you trying to use it? Use my grief?_

"What the hell's wrong with him?" Kagain asked, turning around to glower at the younger dwarf.

"What is the hold-up?" the temple guard-leader demanded.

Looking around anxiously at all of them, Imoen crouched down in front of Dorean and placed her hands on his trembling shoulders.

"Dorean?"

The dwarf did not answer her. He stared back into her eyes, his expression blank and his fingers twitching.

Imoen hesitated, then moved her face closer, nearly touching his nose with her own.

"Little brother?"

He blinked rapidly many times. Then the light returned to his eyes, and he looked up into her eyes.

After a long moment, he closed his eyes and breathed in and out, slowly and deeply, before half-turning to address the half-elves behind him.

"No, Khalid, thank you. I...I am fine now." He paused. "You are an excellent healer, Jaheira" he added to Jaheira's navel.

He turned around, not daring to meet her eyes. Kagain watched him for a moment before he turned away with a disgusted snort and spat off to the side.

"Shakin' like a damn leaf."

Imoen glared at the back of his head. Dorean ignored him.

They quietly resumed their journey through the streets of Beregost, Dorean barely resisting the temptation to sneak a glance at Jaheira behind him.

 _She knows._

His eyes narrowed to slits. _And she's been watching me constantly since this morning. Where did she go to last night?_

He became aware that Imoen was glancing worriedly at him, and silently berated himself for the display earlier.

 _Control yourself, fool. Don't_ _ **ever**_ _let_ _ **anyone**_ _know what you are truly feeling._

Dorean trudged in contemplative silence, staring at Kagain's back, until another thought occurred to him. He mulled over it for a moment before deciding to share it with Imoen.

"He saved my life." He said quietly. "Montaron, back in the cavern. And yours, too," he added, looking up at her. "That was why he locked you in that room."

"...yeah," Imoen replied, keeping her voice low. "It does seem that way, now that you mention it."

They both glanced behind them at Xzar, who was in his usual place at the rear of the party. He was still wearing the clothes of a peddler, ignoring the looks he was receiving from their silent escort. The wizard caught the duo's gazes and tilted his head at them. Dorean and Imoen stared at him silently before facing forward again.

"Hey," Kagain said suddenly without turning around. "Remember when I told yas ta keep ya mouths shut?" He fell back to walk in between Dorean and Imoen, elbowing them both to one side. "I want ya ta keep it that way. I'll be doin' the talkin'."

"How reassuring," said Jaheira. Kagain gave her a one-eyed icy-blue glare before turning back to the Candlekeep roommates.

"If _anyone_ asks ya anythin', ya know nothin'. Ya saw nothin', ya heard nothin. Say one word an' our deal is off."

Dorean and Imoen looked at him, at each other, then at Kagain again. Behind them, Khalid and Jaheira both glared quietly at the dwarf.

"So why do you think the governor wants to see us?" Imoen asked.

"Oh, I have no idea," Kagain answered with heavy sarcasm. "Maybe it's ta talk about the weather. Or th' birds an' the bees, or the latest fashions from the city. Or maybe about the soddin' mess we left back there. What do ya think he wants ta see us for!?" He glowered at Imoen before looking away and glancing at Dorean.

"Still frightened 'bout bein' arrested, huh?"

Dorean did not answer nor meet his eyes.

"Shouldn't have gotten that bounty placed on ya head, then."

"Am I to take it that you're going back on your word?" Dorean asked, his voice cold and emotionless. Kagain's eye-lids narrowed slightly.

"Ya insult me, nugget. I'll let it go on account'a nerves. But only once." He paused. "Don't worry yaself about it. Ya with me now. An' as long as I say that you're my friend, ya should be safe here."

"How is that supposed to help?" Imoen asked, with more than a little scepticism. Kagain glared at her for a moment before letting out a loud, huffing sigh.

"Around here, when I introduce ya to people...if I say, 'this is a friend of mine', that would mean ya connected ta me."

Imoen frowned and exchanged a look with Dorean. "So, if you say we're your friends, does that mean you're protecting us?"

Kagain looked at her impassively. "Yeah, but it doesn't mean ya a partner. It means ya workin' fer me."

"So what do you call your partners, then?"

"Humph. Well, if I say instead, 'this is a friend'a ours', that would mean ya a made guy."

Imoen raised an eyebrow. "A made guy?"

"It means ya a partner, an equal. Means nobody can hurt ya, 'less they want me ta hurt them. Ya get it?"

Imoen looked at Kagain, at Dorean, then at Khalid, Jaheira and Xzar before her gaze returned to Kagain again.

"I never read of dwarves talking like that."

Kagain huffed. "Shows ya what ya know about dwarves."

Imoen frowned at him and gave a huff of her own before turning away with her nose in the air.

"So," Dorean said to Kagain after a moment. "Friend of mine, friend of ours. Anyone asks how we know you, what do we call you? Friend of ours, or-"

"Ya keep ya soddin' mouth shut about me. AN' ya keep ya mouths shut 'bout _anythin'_ an' _everythin'_ , understand?"

"...Kagain," said Dorean, deliberately looking away from him.

"What?"

"I'm sorry about what happened."

The older dwarf frowned down at him. "Sod ya sorry. Shut yer mouth an' _keep_ it shut."

Dorean nodded, keeping his eyes averted.

 _He paused. Could be something, or nothing. Won't know until I find out more._

..

* * *

The first thing Karlat became aware of upon opening his eyes was that only the left one was functioning.

The second thing was that he was naked, bound hand and foot to a chair, and had a wad of cloth stuffed in his mouth.

Something moved in front of him. Looking up through a haze of blood and pain, his low-light vision made out a halfling. Karlat blinked at him with his one good eye before recognizing him as one of the mark's companions. He worked his face into a defiant glare and attempted to speak, but his words were lost in a series of muffled gargles.

The halfling neither spoke nor moved. He stood very still, arms loose at his sides, looking up at the dwarf's face.

His failed attempts at cursing him trailing away, Karlat's gaze slowly moved from the halfling's face to his left hand.

It was holding a thin wooden spoon.

The mercenary stared at it for a long moment, then slowly lifted his gaze back to the halfling's blank, emotionless face.

Then his free hand took hold of Karlat's hair, wrenching his head back, and the other lifted the spoon towards his blinded eye.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Despite being more spacious than the entire temple of Oghma in Candlekeep, the vestibule of the Song of the Morning was almost bare compared to it. Hardly any religious symbols were to be seen, and even furniture was completely absent.

A small number of oil paintings provided its sole decoration. Sitting on the floor next to a wall, Dorean's eyes moved slowly from one end of the hall to the other, pretending to study them.

 _Eleven. All temple guards, except one._ His gaze lingered on a tall figure standing at the far wall, its plate armour standing out in contrast to the guards' chain-mail.

 _Encircled and watching us. Flaming Fist gone, but likely still nearby in the main temple area. And a lot more guards outside._

A hand reached out from Dorean's right, gently feeling the wound from Karlat's throwing axe on his yet-again-bandaged forehead. The dwarf ignored it.

 _Took our weapons, but didn't bother to search us. Carelessness or confidence? Either way, fighting's not an option, even with my remaining weapons._

Fingers brushed his beard aside, gingerly touching his neck and throat. Dorean ignored it as well, though he gave an irritable grunt.

 _Not a lot of escape routes. Might have to cause a commotion. If I can get to the stables or the sheep-fields, maybe I can-_

Fingers pinched his large nose.

"Will you stop it!?" He shouted, smacking the hand away.

"I was just che-"

"You've checked enough, thank you," He paused for a half-second, then added, "Jaheira fixed me up. Now stop bothering me."

Imoen glared at him, rubbing her hand. "Well, maybe you should sit with her then."

"I will if you touch me again," Dorean replied, rounding angrily on her.

"Why do you have to be so-"

" _Shut up_ , both'a yas!" Kagain ordered, glowering down at them.

The two roommates averted their eyes from him and each other, sulking in silence. With a loud huff of his nostrils, the mercenary turned away and resumed his pacing, ignoring the annoyed looks from the two broom-toting dawn priests and the wary ones from the guards. He shot a hostile glance at Xzar as he stalked past. The wizard ignored him, his attention focused on scribbling in a worn and tattered journal.

Sitting on the floor several paces away, Jaheira watched Dorean and Imoen as well. Feeling Khalid's eyes on her, she turned to see him wearing a lopsided smile.

"What?"

Khalid leaned against the wall, tilted his head back and continued to smile at her. Jaheira straightened indignantly, staring at him in exasperated denial. Khalid's smile only widened, and with a huff not dissimilar to Kagain's, Jaheira turned her head and leaned away from him with a petulant frown.

After a few seconds, Khalid moved his hand under Jaheira's, turning it palm-up. Despite her expression not changing, Dorean noticed her fingers reluctantly squeeze his back. The dwarf raised an eyebrow when one of the female temple guards who was eyeing Khalid appeared annoyed at the sight.

 _Seems like they're close. Won't be easy to set them apart or turn them on each other._

His thoughts were interrupted by the clank of metal. Looking up, Dorean managed to stop himself from flinching or reaching for his boot-knife. He kept his hands on his lap, watching impassively as the plate-mail-wearing stranger walked up to and kneeled down in front of him.

"Forgive me. I could not help overhearing. Are you in need of healing?"

Dorean hesitated. "You're a healer?"

The stranger smiled. "No, but I have some experience. And I won't charge a fee." He removed his helmet and tucked it under his arm. Locks of dark hair fell to his shoulders, accentuating his young, handsome features.

Dorean saw Imoen straighten from the corner of his eye and immediately felt a rush of distrust for the man.

"That wound looks fresh and deep," the stranger said, looking down at the dwarf's bandaged forehead. "I could see to it if you wish."

"...thank you kindly, but no," Dorean answered, suddenly reminded of the last time a man offered to see to one of his head-wounds. "I am gra-"

He stopped in mid-speak. The young stranger blinked, then turned his head to the left.

Xzar was kneeling down in front of him, staring openly at his face.

Kagain stopped pacing. The two half-elves leaned forward slightly.

After a moment's hesitation, the young man gave what he evidently hoped was a polite smile.

"Greetings."

Xzar did not answer.

"My name is Ajantis. May I ask your name?"

Still no answer.

"...Do you require help?"

A moment passed. Xzar then reached out with both hands and placed them on Ajantis' cheeks.

Everyone stared. Ajantis became still and unmoving, eyes opening and closing like shutters as fingers pressed softly into his cheeks, then slowly moved to his jaw.

"Urm...Xzar?" said Imoen, slowly poking her head in between their faces. "What are you doing?"

Xzar gave her a disapproving look.

" _Working,_ young lady," he admonished. "Kindly refrain from interrupting."

Imoen blinked, then slowly moved her head back. Giving her a smile and nod, Xzar then resumed touching Ajantis' head.

As his fingers pressed down on the top of his cranium, Ajantis glanced sideways at Dorean and Imoen. The former answered him with a blank look while Imoen shrugged.

After a moment, Xzar leaned back, nodding to himself.

"I like this one," he said, placing his hands on Ajantis' shoulders. "I am keeping it."

Silence reigned for a good five seconds.

"...thank you...sir," said Ajantis. "I am most...urm...but I am already in service to another."

"No matter. You are with me now."

Ajantis blinked rapidly, his eyes darting to the rest of the party and the temple guards. "But, I-"

"Oh, very well. Take me to him, then," Xzar commanded.

Ajantis stared blankly.

"Go on," Xzar said insistently, making a shooing motion with one of his hands.

Slowly rising to his feet, Ajantis turned towards the main entrance of the temple.

After a round of blank looks at each other, the others stood up as well. The guards made no attempt to stop them, silently letting them pass and following in their wake with expressions of utter bafflement.

Straightening his peddler's clothing, Xzar walked a step behind Ajantis, his chin in the air and his face emanating cool, dignified aloofness.

..

* * *

The first thing Dorean saw upon entering the main sanctuary of the temple was the colossal statue of Lathander. The second was the large crowd gathered around it, many of whom were seated on the floor awaiting the attention of the staff and priests.

Ajantis led them and their guards along the side and down a wide corridor lined with several doors, the largest of which stood at the very end.

The two sentinels flanking the door stepped forward at their approach, and Ajantis stopped several paces away from them, bringing the entire group to an abrupt halt. After a long moment in which all of the escort failed to answer the expectant looks from their comrades other than to stand dumbly alongside their charges, the sentinels looked at each other before turning to Ajantis.

"State your business."

Ajantis blinked, opened his mouth, closed it, then turned to Xzar. The wizard gave him a half-lidded, somewhat-patronizing look before stepping up beside him.

"We are here to see the Most Radiant, of course."

"He is in a meeting."

"That's fine. We'll just interrupt them."

The two guards looked at each other again, then back at Xzar.

"That's not-"

What happened next was so quick that no one had time to react; Xzar stepped forward, the two guards doubled over sneezing violently, and the wizard breezed past them, pulled the door open and walked in to the surprise of the three people beyond.

"Hello," he said cheerily.

"What is the meaning of this!?" one of them shouted. "Who are-"

The door swung closed, cutting off his words. For a moment, everyone stared at it, except for the two sentries who were still sneezing uncontrollably and clutching their hands to their faces.

"Well _get after him_!" Kagain yelled. Ajantis gave a jerk, then hurriedly opened the door and entered with the dwarf at his heels.

"Ivarstarr!?" shouted the same person from before. "Is what this man is saying-"

The door closed again. A half-second passed before Jaheira turned to the leader of their guard escort.

"Get in and stop him, now," she ordered tersely. "I will see to them." She immediately moved to the two sneezing sentries.

The leader looked bewilderedly at her for a moment before regaining his composure and turning to the two men at the rear. "You two, stay here with her. The rest of you, inside."

The door opened yet again and the rest of the party save Jaheira was ushered in.

Struggling to keep his head straight, Dorean instantly scanned the room and its occupants the moment he stepped through the threshold.

 _Desk, chairs, shelves, papers. An office._

His eyes snapped to each of the three people he saw earlier in turn, starting with the one currently shouting at Ajantis. Everything slowed to a crawl as he committed every visible detail to memory.

 _Male, mid-to-late thirties. Eye-glasses. Dark hair already going grey, combed flat. Goatee. Thin, average height. Fine clothing. Unarmed._

 _Female, mid-twenties. Copper hair, close cropped. Flaming Fist armour and symbol. Armed with mace, dagger and shield._

 _Male, sixties at least, maybe older. Long grey hair and beard, neatly kept and trimmed. Beautiful robes, yet of simple design. Morning sunrise in the middle. Unarmed but potions at belt, possibly lethal._

The world snapped back to normal in time for him to see Ajantis raise his hands imploringly and attempt to speak to the bespectacled man over the struggle taking place next to him.

"Lord Witton, I-"

"Is this what men of your Order truly are!? You abandon those you serve when the risks run high!?"

"No, _no!_ That is _not_ what-"

"Soddin' crazy demented madman!" Kagain hollered, reaching up and taking hold of Xzar's clothes.  
"Unhand me, you little dog!" Xzar cried, batting at the dwarf's head. "Guards! Remove this _thing_ from my person!"

"Cut off ya head an' stick it up ya-"

"I am s-s-so s-sorry about t-t-this!" Khalid stammered, grabbing Xzar from behind by his shoulders.

"Guards!" Xzar cried, struggling as the half-elf and dwarf dragged him back towards the door. "Help me! I want that man's skull!"

"-don't _know_ who he is, he just - what!?" Ajantis' hair spun in a wide arc as he turned to look at Xzar.

"Do your jobs and _restrain_ these people!" The Flaming Fist woman bellowed at the temple guards, all of whom appeared to have been stupefied by Xzar's words.

"His skull! It's _perfect!_ I must have it!" Squirming against his captors, Xzar reached with both hands towards Ajantis.

Luckily for Dorean, he happened to be watching the Lathanderite priest. The instant that the latter raised his hand, the dwarf grabbed Imoen around the waist and dived to the floor.

Blinding light suddenly burst out from the priest's hand, enveloping the room. Everyone turned away and covered their eyes, with the exception of Xzar, Khalid and Kagain who all tumbled to the floor in a heap, taking a few guards with them.

When the light receded, Dorean removed his face from Imoen's back.

Everyone who hadn't fallen to the floor was now on their knees blinking or rubbing their eyes, the sole exception among them being the priest.

"Forgive me," he said, lowering his hand. "Rest assured, the effect is only temporary. Your vision will return fully within minutes. And if not, there will be healing provided. Free of charge, of course." He slowly turned his head from right to left, noting the silent faces all directed at him. "Now, I believe the gentleman here," he indicated Xzar. "Has something to say?"

Xzar paused, then leaped nimbly to his feet, putting a knee on Kagain's stomach in the process.

"Indeed! I want this young man," he pointed a finger at Ajantis. "To come with me. He said that he already is in service to another, and so I had him lead me here to make the arrangements with his master." He turned to the bespectacled man, placing his hands on his hips and puffing out his chest. "That would be you, I take it?" he added haughtily.

The man stared slack-jawed at him for a moment before composing himself and lifting his chin and a sharp glare to the wizard. "You are correct, _sir_ ," he replied, stretching out the last word derisively. "I am Lord Bartholomew of House Witton, diplomat to the city of Athkatla. And you are...?"

Xzar sniffed and lifted his chin as well. "Me? I am no lord and am certainly of no house. But I have a name. It is Xzar. With an X. And I am a peddler, wizard, alchemist, craftsman, spy, assassin, shoemaker and florist. I have been summoned by the mayor of Nashkel to investigate the iron thefts and shortages in the region." He lifted his chin even higher, nose now pointing to the ceiling. "And this young man and his skull will be aiding me in my most noble quest!"

He pointed a dramatic finger at Ajantis. Everyone stared.

"What did you say you were?" Batholomew asked.

Xzar lowered his chin with an annoyed frown. "Were you not listening? Fine, from the top; I am a peddler, wizard, alche-"

"After that."

Xzar gave a frustrated growl. "From the bottom, then. Florist, shoemaker, assa-"

"Assassin!" Bartholomew cried. "You're here for me! That's what this is!" His head and eyes darted wildly as he backed up against the desk. "You're here to kill me!"

"Calm yourself, Lord Witton," said the priest.

"You heard him, Ormlyr! He said-"

"I know what I he said, Lord Witton," he answered, his tone gentle yet firm. "Regardless, you need to remain calm."

"Remain calm?" Batholomew answered, his fists clenching and his voice turning hysterical again. "You expect me to be _calm_!? My bodyguards are all dead, I'm hunted by assassins, I have been stuck here for _weeks_ now because _you_ refuse to grant me an escort to the city! Remain calm!? _What kind of governor are you!?"_

Kelddath did not so much as stir; his reasonable, assuring expression and demeanour remained unchanged. Yet Bartholomew clammed up instantly, leaning back slightly from the man.

No one spoke or even moved. Tearing his gaze from Kelddath, Dorean noted the apprehensive expressions on Kagain, the Flaming Fist officer and the temple guards.

"Guardsmen," Kelddath said softly.

The temple guards blinked, but quickly straightened in response. "Yes, sir?" said their leader.

"Lord Witton informed me earlier that he had the misfortune to miss breakfast. Would you kindly escort him to the dining hall?"

The guardsman leader gave a quick bow. Bartholomew did not resist. With one final anxious look at Xzar, he turned and left the room. Ajantis hesitated before following him, glancing over his shoulder at the party. Xzar gave him a friendly wave.

The door swung shut once more, leaving the party alone with the Flaming Fist officer and Kelddath. The latter slowly sat down, resting his elbows on the chair.

"Please do not begrudge him. Lord Witton has been through a lot lately." He steepled his fingers. "Kelddath Ormlyr. People here tend to call me the governor of this region, but I mostly just work as a priest here in the temple. How are you, Kagain?"

Glancing over at the other dwarf, Dorean noticed the twitch in his eye before he answered.

"Doing fine, thanks."

"I am glad to hear that. Especially after I received a report from Jessa here," he inclined his head at the Flaming Fist mercenary. "Of a fight in the Red Sheaf today. Thirteen dead and eight wounded. All men and women of your company." He paused for a moment, staring at the dwarf over his fingers. "I despatched healers to the inn immediately. Rest assured, my friend, they will do everything in their power to help your people."

In the two seconds before he replied, Dorean saw the muscle twitch in Kagain's cheek.

"Thank ya, Kelddath. Ya have my gratitude." Kagain inclined his head stiffly.

"No need for that, my friend," Kelddath replied. "You have earned it many times over." He gave a warm smile. Kagain lifted his head and smiled back; his blue eyes remained cold and distant. Dorean and Imoen exchanged furtive looks.

After a moment, Kelddath stood up and walked around his desk. "So are these folks accompanying you now? Upstanding characters, I hope."

"They're friends of mine," Kagain said, his tone clipped. Kelddath's eyebrows lifted as he looked around the party, then back at him.

"Friends of yours."

There was a three-second pause. "Yeah."

Another three-second pause. Kagain then slowly turned, walked over to Khalid, and raised his arm.

"This is Khalid," he said shortly.

"Good to meet you, Khalid," Kelddath said warmly. Dorean watched as they shook hands, recalling Kagain getting all of their names (sans Xzar and Montaron whom he already knew) while they were travelling from the Dented Shield headquarters to the archery range.

 _Wish I gave him a fake name. Not that it would matter, since he knows it from the notices._

"Might I hazard a guess that you are a soldier by profession?"

Dorean frowned; Khalid was once again not displaying his usual nervous, awkward demeanour. The half-elf blinked once, then gave a curt, polite nod.

Kagain seemed to have noticed it too, but gave no comment. "Imoen," he said shortly, gesturing to her.

"Heya," Imoen replied. "You know, I once wrote a-"

Dorean quietly stepped on her foot.

"...actually, my mistake, it was to someone else."

"Very nice to meet you, Imoen," said Kelddath, bowing to her. "May I ask what brought you here to Beregost?"

Years of lying and acting to fool potential marks in Candlekeep ensured that Imoen did not miss a beat. "Job-hunting, mainly. I worked taverns, mostly, but I heard there's more pay in providing security."

Kelddath gave a short laugh. "Perhaps you would consider a position here in the temple? We receive plenty of customers daily and could always use the help."

"I'll think about it," Imoen replied with a bright smile. Kelddath nodded and smiled back. Dorean braced himself as the priest turned towards him.

"Dorean," said Kagain, his tone still monotonous and his expression blank.

 _The eyes. Watch the eyes._

Dorean looked up at Kelddath's face while keeping the Flaming Fist officer in his peripheral vision. In the instant that the governor appeared to hesitate, the dwarf's left index finger twitched, falling casually to his side and closer to the dagger hidden in his boot.

"Always an honour and pleasure to meet another of the Stout Folk," said Kelddath, bowing his head.

"Nay, I wouldn't save much honour fer the likes'a me, yer worship," replied Dorean, putting on a much-practiced dwarven accent. "Rat-catcher's all I am." _Eyes._

Kelddath's eye-lids lowered, but only for a split-second. He then straightened, his warm, gentle smile back in place.

"You need not be so humble, sir. It is a respectable occupation, regardless of what others may say."

"Well, it's nice'a ye ta say so, gov'nor."

"Please, call me Kelddath."

Dorean answered with a smile, then remembered his beard and bowed instead.

"An' _this_ ," said Kagain, putting a slight emphasis on the last word. "This is Xzar."

"Ah, yes," said Kelddath. "The man of many talents. I apologize again for Lord Witton's behaviour, good sir."

Xzar folded his arms indignantly across his chest. "Humph. I shall forgive him, just as soon as he hands over his servant to me."

"Squire Ivarstarr? The matter of his position is out of my hands, I am afraid. You will have to speak with them yourself."

"I will," Xzar replied, with a crooked smile that immediately caused Dorean to wonder if Witton would live to see the next day.

Clasping his hands behind his back, Kelddath moved in front of the desk and turned to face the party.

"Now, you may be wandering why I summoned you all here. I am afraid it's about the incident at the Red Sheaf. The people here value their peace and safety, and they look to me to provide it for them; I am supposed to be running things, after all. Unfortunately, the law here in Beregost states that, as its governor, I must allow the Flaming Fist to detain all of you until they have concluded their investigation."

Silence filled the office. Feeling Imoen's hand grasp and squeeze his own, Dorean noted Kagain' and Khalid's faces; the former blank and unreadable, the latter calm and collected.

"However," Kelddath went on, spreading his arms and smiling once again. "I am also a priest of Lathander, bound to serve his teachings and lead by example. And one such teaching is to provide clemency wherever possible, would you agree, Jessa?"

The Flaming Fist mercenary shrugged. "I wouldn't know, Kelddath. I don't worship him."

Kelddath chuckled. "So I would like to offer all of you...a resolution, if you will. To mediate this matter." He paused. "The townsfolk are concerned about many matters, not least of which are the caravans that pass through here. You may have heard of one that was recently lost to bandits. It was under the protection of men of the Dented Shield company, all of whom gave their lives defending it."

Kagain had grown so still and silent that he now resembled little more than a statue.

"Despite this tragedy, my friend Kagain has not deferred from his duty; he is preparing to escort another caravan, this time to Baldur's Gate. I presume he has told you of it? Possibly," he said without waiting for an answer. "It is why you were all in the Red Sheaf earlier this morning, am I correct?"

Kagain nodded mechanically.

 _He keeps tabs on the man_ , Dorean thought. _What makes Kagain so useful that the Zhentarim would risk getting the governor's attention for?_ He paused. _Unless Kelddath's connected to them too._

"Then let me extend my gratitude to you for aiding us. And my apology for what I ask of you next. Lord Witton has gained a, shall we say, _opinion_ of you. An ill-conceived one, of course. But you could convince him otherwise. He requires an escort to the city. I humbly ask that you provide it."

Walking slowly around his desk again, Kelddath settled back into his chair. "Of course, you have every right to refuse."

 _Bullshit._ Dorean kept his face straight. _It's either this or we go to prison._ _Probably will, anyway._

"We'll need more men," Kagain said gruffly.

"And you shall have them. I take it you are accepting my proposal?"

"...yes," Kagain replied. "We accept."

"Excellent," said Kelddath. He stood up, the smile that Dorean was now rapidly growing to detest returning to his face. "I will inform Lord Witton of the new arrangement and have him meet you at your headquarters in, hmm...a few hours?"

"Alright," said Kagain. Khalid and Imoen were looking at him now; the mercenary's near-mechanical demeanour was unsettling. Dorean, however, was watching Jessa; she was now glancing at Kagain, her otherwise calm expression barely concealing the contempt in her eyes.

 _Kagain_ _ **really**_ _isn't a popular man here._

"Good, good. I won't keep you any longer, Kagain. Except...I believe there is another friend of yours outside?"

"...yeah. There is."

"Well, I should at least introduce myself. It would be disrespectful otherwise." He nodded to the temple guards nearest the door. When they opened it, Jaheira immediately walked past them into the office.

"They will be fine, provided they get some rest." She did not so much as glance at Xzar, keeping her eyes on the governor-priest. "You wish to speak to me?" Without waiting for an answer, she looked at Jessa. "Let the others go. Set a watch on us if you must."

Taken aback, Jessa leaned away from the Tethyrian. She looked at Kelddath, who answered her with a nod while keeping his eyes on Jaheira. With a deep breath, the Flaming Fist mercenary then turned to the rest of the party and gestured to the door.

None of the guards appeared to want to get too close to Xzar. The wizard ignored them, placing a hand on Imoen's shoulder. The pink-clad girl blinked, but otherwise did not protest, allowing herself to be steered to the door. His hand still grasped in hers, Dorean was practically yanked along.

Khalid exchanged a solemn nod with Jaheira, then turned to follow the others. He moved a few steps behind Xzar, watching the back of the wizard's head like a hawk.

Dorean glanced over his shoulder at Jaheira, then slowly turned away to avoid the gaze of the Flaming Fist mercenary close behind him.

Kagain marched stiffly from the office, his chain-mail clinking and steel boots echoing loudly off the stone floor.

..

* * *

As soon as the door closed, Kelddath's entire demeanour deflated. He sank back into the chair, shoulders and neck slumping as he leaned to one side and rubbed his forehead. A long, weary sigh escaped his beard.

"You don't look well," Jaheira said flatly.

"No. Not since all this started." With another sigh, Kelddath dropped his hands onto the armrests of his chair. "What are you doing here, Jaheira?"

"Journeying to Nashkel at a summons request from Ghastkill," Jaheira replied, folding her arms across her chest. "He wants help in uncovering the source of the iron shortage."

Kelddath rested his nose on the knuckles of his hand. "That man, the one who barged in here. Tell me he is just an eccentric."

"He is Zhentarim Special Operations."

"Oh," said Kelddath, his hand dropping to his thigh. "That is _just_ what I need."

"And he has a partner. A halfling, likely an assassin."

"Wonderful," Kelddath replied, his tone implying the exact opposite.

"They know the dwarf. Kagain. You may want to look into that."

"You think the Zhentarim really are behind this?"

"It is what we are here to find out."

Kelddath sighed and rubbed his forehead again, looking increasingly more like a tired old man than a charming leader. "I've got too much on my plate right now to go digging into Kagain's secret contacts, Jaheira." He paused. "What are you two doing with him anyway?"

"The Zhents brought us to him. They want to hire him to act as a guide in the mines at Nashkel."

Kelddath nodded. "Makes sense, I'll admit. Kagain's a thug, but a useful one. And he does believe in keeping one's word. Makes it easier to control him."

"'Control' him?"

"You know how it works, Jaheira. Besides, he's a saint compared to most of the other lowlives here."

Jaheira paused, then nodded quietly.

"I don't know what I can tell you that you wouldn't already be aware of," said Kelddath. "The rumour about the Grand Dukes accusing Amn of the bandit raids? I don't know if it's true. But these are more than just raids, they are full-scale slaughters."

"I saw the palisade."

"Standard procedure in state of emergency; fortify the town in preparation for a possible siege. Of course, it's pointless when the bandits are only attacking the caravans coming to and from the place."

"I doubt they are mere bandits. More likely hired mercenaries."

"I don't know what or who they are, Jaheira. All I know is what Jessa told me; they are near-impossible to track or pin down. The Flaming Fist have not been able to find their hideout. Not with everything else that they've had to deal with." He sighed again. "The caravan massacre yesterday, it's causing panic. People are boarding up their houses. And on top of that, I've got merchants hounding me about the next caravan being delayed, and Witton being a pain in the arse about getting an escort." He dropped his face into his hands and heaved yet another sigh, louder and more drawn-out than all the rest. "I should never have taken this job."

Jaheira gave him a moment before speaking. "You want us to escort him to the city."

"Yes," Kelddath replied, looking up at her. "And the caravan. I'm guessing Kagain wants you to escort the caravan at least, right?"

Jaheira stared at him stonily. Kelddath's face slackened, and he straightened in his seat.

"I will owe you a favour," he said solemnly.

After a long moment, Jaheira quietly nodded and Kelddath sank back in the chair with relief.

"Thank you, Jaheira. And give Khalid my thanks as well."

There was another quiet pause. "You need to get some rest," said Jaheira. "You look as though you have not slept in days."

"I haven't." Kelddath slowly ran his hands through his side-burns and beard. "Too much to do."

Jaheira nodded, and with that, she turned and left without another word.

It was a few minutes later, leaning forward in his chair, that the exhausted priest realized he had forgotten to ask her about the dwarf and girl, and that she had knowingly kept quiet about it.

..

* * *

"Again."

"I _already_ told you-"

"Tell me again. All of it."

His auburn beard now stained blood-red, Karlat lifted his head from his bare chest, looking up with his one remaining eye at Montaron's face.

" _Why?!"_

"So I know ye ain't lyin'."

The dwarven assassin glared furiously at him for a moment before he dropped his head to his chest again.

"Ye don't, yer ear's next," said Montaron, his voice matching his bored face.

Karlat's body began to quake, and he slowly rocked back and forth on the chair. His sobs echoed off the stone walls of the passage. The halfling watched and waited in complete silence save the dripping of blood onto the floor from the spoon in his hand.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

 _Delicately taking hold of the doorknob, Gorion slowly turned it and stepped quietly into his room._

 _He stopped in the doorway upon seeing the tiny figure lying on one of the two beds. His eyes lingered on its hands and forehead, both now heavily swathed in bandages._

 _"We did what we could for him," the Oghmite priest behind him whispered. "I...thought it would be best if he were brought here, rather than remain at the clinic."_

 _Gorion did not turn around. "He attacked someone."_

 _The priest sighed. "Yes. One of the nurses. She's alive. And stable. We stopped the bleeding in time." He paused. "This will not stay quiet for long. The Keeper will learn of it sooner or later. If he hasn't already."_

 _Gorion quietly nodded, still keeping his back to the man. "I appreciate it."_

 _A long moment passed in silence save for the little dwarf's soft breathing. "Gorion...one of my people was attacked."_

 _"I cannot tell you what I do not know," the wizard answered, finally turning to face him._

 _"She almost died today. And the stab wound was_ _ **surgical**_ _, like he was-"_

 _"Nor would I even if I did."_

 _The priest glared at him for a long moment before turning on his heel and stalking away._

 _Gorion watched him out of sight, then turned back to the small figure in the room. After taking a deep breath, he slowly walked in, closed the door behind him, and sat down on the bed at the dwarf's tiny feet._

 _Dorean's eyes flicked open, staring at the ceiling. Otherwise, he gave no sign that he had registered Gorion's presence._

 _A few minutes passed in silence. Then Gorion slowly reached into his rucksack, removed a number of books from it, and placed them carefully next to the dwarf's left foot. He then shifted himself further onto the bed, leaned his head and shoulders against the wall, and turned his gaze to the ceiling._

 _Ten long minutes went by, neither of them moving, speaking or looking at each other._

 _Then Dorean slowly sat up, gingerly took hold of the book on top of the stack in his tiny, bandaged hands, and looked at the cover depicting a tall, muscular warrior in leather armour standing protectively in front of a long-haired noblewoman, sword and shield in hand._

 _After a moment, he opened it and began to read, eyes travelling slowly across the page._

 _Gorion remained still, keeping his gaze on the ceiling and opposite wall. He hesitated, then slowly placed his hand on the dwarf's leg just in front of his foot and gave it a few gentle pats._

 _Dorean did not appear to respond to the gesture. However, for just a few seconds, his eyes were still._

 _He then silently resumed reading._

 _More minutes went by, the wizard idly resting his hand on the dwarf's leg, before Dorean suddenly spoke._

 _"They're gonna fall in love, are they?" he said monotonously._

 _The wizard could not help but smile._

 _"It gets better."_

 _The little dwarf paused without looking up from the book, then grunted and continued reading._

..

* * *

 _So...I almost died today, was in a bloodbath that will certainly become the talk of the town if it hasn't already, and I am currently in debt to a governor and religious leader who wants us to escort and protect a man targeted for assassination._ Dorean lifted his head, taking care not to expose too much of his face beneath his hood, and glanced up at the morning sun. _And it's not even noon._ He gave a frustrated sigh through his beard.

"We're getting a bit of attention," Imoen said, glancing furtively at the numerous looks from the passing townsfolk.

"Maybe that's why Jessa and the guards left us," Dorean muttered. "Hoping the locals'll tear us apart." He carefully avoided eye contact with a group of particularly hostile-looking peasants. "Stay close."

Imoen glanced over her shoulder at Khalid, who was keeping several paces to Xzar's right along with a close eye. "Think Jaheira will be alright?" she asked quietly.

"She can take care of herself," Dorean answered. "Right now, I'm more worried about us."

"You mean where we're going?" said Imoen, looking ahead where Kagain and a familiar minstrel were leading the group. "Garrick said it shouldn't be too much trouble."

"He offered three hundred with another hundred on top if there is. Something like that, you can almost guarantee there will be." _And it may be coming from him,_ He added to himself, looking at the crossbow on the minstrel's back and the quiver of bolts at his hip. _He was waiting for us at the temple entrance._

Imoen hesitated for a moment before patting his shoulder. "It'll turn out alright, little brother. It always does in the end."

Dorean paused as a sneering elderly woman spat on the ground as they passed, then brushed her hand away. "This isn't a _story_ , Imoen," he said gruffly. "And we're not in Candlekeep anymore."

Imoen's gaze lingered on his face before she slowly looked away. "You're right," she said softly. "We're not."

She walked in silence with her gaze pointed at the ground. Dorean looked at her, opened his mouth, then closed it and looked away, angry at both her and himself.

 _I don't care. I_ _ **don't**_ _. She_ _ **needs**_ _to wake up. we almost got_ _ **killed**_ _back at the inn._

He grimly quickened his pace, moving away from her and closer to Kagain and Garrick

"...mean to impose, but I must insist that we hurry," Garrick was saying. "The men who threatened Mistress Silke might be making their way to the inn this very second."

"I sent some'a my guys over there already, so quit ya worryin' an' stick ta answerin' me. Who an' how many?"

"I...do not know of their numbers," Garrick replied, scratching his chin. "They could be sending one man, or a dozen. Or even a hundred!" He added with wide eyes. Seeing the look Kagain was giving him, the minstrel wisely moved on. "But I believe they were hired by Marcus Feldepost."

"Feldepost? _He's_ settin' people after ya?"

"Yes he is, the villain! Sending thugs to hurt Mistress Rosena for refusing to perform at his inn. One could hardly blame her, given his reputation."

Kagain frowned and stroked his beard, fingering one of its braids. A brief moment passed before he spoke. "This might go easy. I know Feldepost; I can talk ta his guys, straighten this whole thing out."

"Oh, that is such a relief, Sir Kagain!" Garrick exclaimed, causing Dorean to raise an eyebrow. Indeed, he looked immensely relieved at the mercenary's words. "My mistress is a kindly soul; she would never wish violence upon another, even if they seek to harm her."

"Just make sure ya have the money when it's done. An' don't call me 'Sir,' I ain't a soddin' knight."  
"Of course, sir-I mean Mister Kagain. I will have your payment ready as soon as you have dealt with Feldepost's men."  
"An' one other thing," Kagain added, lifting a warning finger at Garrick. "Keep ya mouth shut about Feldepost; ain't a smart thing ta go around callin' 'im a villain in this town."

Garrick's eyes widened, but not in fear. If anything, he seemed more excited than intimidated.

"A dangerous man, is he?" he said, with an eagerness that made Dorean want to back away. "But..." Garrick sighed. "You are right, Mister Kagain. I will be careful with my words."

"'Course I'm correct," Kagain answered loudly. "An' this other thing with ya mistress, escorting her ta the city; I wanna talk with her on it after we're done with this problem'a yers. Ya make sure an' tell her that."

"Ah, yes, of course, si- Kagain," Garrick answered, correcting himself again. "Better yet, you can speak with her yourself. After you have dealt with Feldepost's thugs, of course."

"Of course," Kagain replied.

"Excuse me," said Dorean, walking up close behind them. "Can I talk to you, Kagain? It will only take a minute. You don't mind, do you, Garrick?"

The older dwarf regarded him quietly for a moment before dropping back beside him. Garrick gave them a curious glance before nodding to Dorean, facing forward again and walking several paces ahead to give them privacy.

"What?" Kagain asked bluntly, keeping his voice low.

"Have you heard anything from the men you sent to the inn?"

"Dunno if ya noticed, nugget, but I had other things on my mind."

Seeing Imoen scowl at Kagain from the corner of his eye, Dorean chose to ignore the slight. "So we don't know if we're walking into an ambush," he whispered.

Kagain fixed him with a piercing, blue-eyed stare, its menace accentuated by his helmet and the drops of blood speckled on his face. "Back out, then. Go to my place an' wait."

Dorean hesitated, returning the dwarf's gaze. He then looked behind him at Imoen, who was now watching them with an inquisitively-tilted head.

"...no. No, I'll stay with you on this."

Kagain snorted. "Got any more questions?"

Dorean shook his head. "Sorry to bother you, Kagain."

He dropped back next to Imoen. The older dwarf glanced at him for another moment before turning away.

Looking down at him, Imoen silently reached over, placed her hand on Dorean's shoulder again, and rubbed it. Dorean sighed, but this time, he did not brush her hand away.

He felt Khalid move up on his other side, and barely stopped himself from flinching when the Calishite imitated Imoen by placing his hand on Dorean's other shoulder. The dwarf looked up at Khalid, forcing a grateful smile onto his face.

Then a third hand came down on Dorean's head, tousling his hair, and he instantly lurched forward and spun around.

Xzar shrank back from him, holding the offending hand to his chest.

For what seemed to be the tenth time since they first met, Khalid's hand was once again on his sword.

Looking at both of them, Imoen took a quick glance at Dorean before turning to Xzar.

"Xzar," she said. "Dorean doesn't like it when people touch his head."

The wizard blinked at her, ignoring Khalid, then, keeping his arm close to his body, he frowned and pointed at Imoen.

"You touch his head all the time."

"Yeah. Well..." Imoen replied, looking down at Dorean. "I'm his big sister, so it's alright for him."

Xzar tilted his head and rubbed his chin, silently contemplating this new piece of information. He then silently walked over, took hold of Imoen's wrist, held up the hand that she had placed on Dorean's shoulder, and stared at it. Imoen, Dorean and Khalid stared back.

"Hey!"

They all jumped and turned around to face Kagain and Garrick about ten paces away.

"Whattaya standin' around for?! We got a job ta do, an' it's urgent! Get a move on, ya _mutts!_ "

"...let's go," said Dorean as they drew more looks from the townsfolk.

They resumed their journey to the Burning Wizard, with Khalid this time placing himself next to Dorean, keeping one eye on the street ahead and another on Xzar behind them; the wizard was still staring at Imoen's right hand.

The dwarf carefully avoided looking behind him at the wizard, instead glancing up at Khalid's face.

 _I don't know who I'm more afraid of._

A jolt of surprise hit him as another thought flitted through his mind.

 _I wish Montaron was with us._

..

* * *

The crowd that had gathered in front of the Red Sheaf had since been partially dispersed, though there were a significant number of remaining onlookers, town militia and Flaming Fist mercenaries to make Dorean pull his hood further over his face.

To his relief, Garrick and Kagain led them past the Red Sheaf to an adjacent three-story building.

In front of a large signboard depicting a smiling sun on a blue background stood a man and woman, both sporting close-cropped hair styles and wearing the armour and colours of the Dented Shield company. They perked up upon seeing Kagain and moved forward to approach him, the woman leading the way.

"Boss," she said, stopping in front of the dwarf. 'There's been talk going around town about a mutiny in the Sheaf! What-"

With a loud snarl, Kagain reached up and shoved her roughly in the stomach, sending her staggering backwards into her partner. "Shut ya goddamn mouth, Maija! Not one more soddin' word! Am I clear?!" He glared fiercely at all four of them before squaring his shoulders. "Now," he barked. "Report."

The mercenaries looked at one another. Then the woman stepped forward again, her expression now dull and neutral.

"Nothing that looks to be worrying about," she said, her voice just as emotionless. "That scum Zhurlong came in a half-hour ago, but he didn't talk to anyone, no one sat with him or passed him anything."

Kagain gave a grunt. Garrick hesitated, then stepped around to the side and in front of him.

"I'll just go fetch Mistress Silke, shall I?" he said, and with that, the minstrel hopped up the stairs and through the front door of the inn.

He returned less than a minute later with two more Dented Shield mercenaries and a woman dressed in fine, tailored clothing of red silk beneath a long, flowing black cloak. She drew back the hood of her cloak and both Dorean and Imoen simultaneously lifted a respective eyebrow.

The woman was very beautiful, almost arrogantly so, and carried herself in a manner similar to the nobles and scholars who had frequently fallen victim to the Candlekeep duo's thieving activities.

"Gentlemen and lady," Garrick declared, skipping forward to stand in front of her and sweeping a dramatic arm. "May I introduce my mistress; Miss Silke Rosena, thespian extraordinaire and musician without-"

"I know it's her, ya lummox," Kagain interrupted. "Who do ya think I think she is, the soddin' milkmaid?"

Dorean noticed Maija and her partner exchanging looks with the other two mercenaries and rolling their eyes behind their leader's back.

"Ahh," said Silke, her voice appropriately fitting her name. "You must be the mercenaries my little Garrick told me about." She cast an appraising eye over the party. Her eyes lingered on both Dorean and Imoen, and in that brief moment, his left hand instinctively drifted closer to his boot-knife.

Xzar smiled and bowed when Silke looked his way; she blinked at him before quickly looking away and raising an eyebrow at Khalid, who nervously smiled and bowed as well. Dorean and Imoen exchanged looks, the latter barely suppressing a grin.

"Garrick, my dear, how much did you offer these...gentlemen?" Silke asked. Imoen pouted at being included in the last word, then frowned and mouthed the words 'My dear?' to Dorean. He answered with a nudge of his elbow into her thigh, silencing her.

"I offered them three hundred gold, just like you told me," Garrick answered, puffing out his chest proudly.

"He also said there'd be an extra hundred fer takin' care'a any trouble," said Kagain, leaning back and placing his hands on his belt. Silke regarded him with half-lidded eyes.

"He did, didn't he?" She paused. "Very well; should there be 'trouble' sufficient enough to warrant 'taking care of,' I will pay the hundred on top of the three."

Kagain's beard bristled as he frowned up at her. He then gave a curt nod. "Deal."

"Well then," said Silke. "I assume Garrick has explained to you your duties?"

"He explained that Feldepost is sendin' guys ta rough ya up. I assume ya want us ta make sure that doesn't happen."

"Indeed I do," Silke replied, and her voice seemed to break slightly. "Yesterday evening, after I refused the request to perform at his inn, Feldepost sent three of his men to ask the same, only now it was a demand. When I refused again, the beasts told me that Feldepost anticipated my refusal, and instructed them to tell me that I will regret my decision come noon the next day; that they will return here to...to sully my honour." She became quiet for a moment, lowering her gaze and pressing her trembling hands together, before looking back at Kagain. "You must not let them near me."

"Mm," said Kagain. He folded his arms across his chest and looked at both Silke and Garrick, scratching his beard. "An' ya want us ta protect ya until ya reach the city."

"No," Silke replied, her voice and expression turning fierce. "I want you to _deal with them_."

Kagain's frown deepened. "Ya know what ya askin' us ta do here, Missy?"

"Yes. And the full four hundred will be yours if you do."

Kagain regarded Silke for a long moment before nodding his head. "Alright. But only if they attack us first; there's a strict law in this town."

"I apologize, good dwarf, but I must insist that you act first, and act quickly. One of the three claimed to be a mage whose mystic words can sway even the most wise of men."

"An enchanter?" said Kagain. He frowned and lowered his head, then turned around. "Hey Xzar-"

He stopped and blinked. The wizard had moved away from the party and was now heading towards a line of stalls manned by peddlers and merchants on the side of the street.

The entire group watched in silence as Xzar walked up to one of the peddlers, stared at him until he hurriedly gathered his belongings and ran away, took off his pack, removed and placed various bottles and jars on the vacated stall, tied his hair into a pony-tail with a length of twine, then stood up straight and smiling with his hands on the counter.

"...what is he doing?" said Silke.

A group of curious locals shuffled closer to Xzar's stall, looking over his wares. From far away, the party, Kagain's mercenaries, and the two bards heard the wizard call out to the townsfolk in an accent different from his own.

"Right, folks. Let's sort the buyers from the spyers, the greedy from the needy, an' the ones who trust me from the ones who don't, because if you can't see value here today, you're not up 'ere shoppin'..."

"...he's settin' up a cover," Kagain said eventually. "Making it look like he's just some regular sod."

"But..." Garrick said hesitantly. "He's over there. And we're over here."

He stared at Kagain. Kagain stared at him.

"Well then we move closer," the dwarf answered.

Everyone exchanged looks with everyone before silently moving toward the crowd gathering around Xzar's stall.

"Right, this is far enough," said Kagain once they reached the crowd's edge. "You," he pointed at the two men who had followed Silke and Garrick out of the inn. "Stay with Missus Rosena here. Maija, you an' ya boyfriend set up on the other side'a the street."

Maija nodded stiffly before abruptly walking off towards her designated location with her partner in tow.

 _No wonder half his men mutinied,_ Dorean thought, glancing at Kagain. _He might be getting deserters if he doesn't start making up to them._

"An' you three," said the mercenary leader. "I want ya ta set up over there." He pointed at the large monument in the centre of the town square. "Stand somewhere we can see ya, ya gonna be our back-up. My boys an' I should be able ta handle this, but if it goes down, get over here quick."

"How would we know if it's going down?" asked Dorean.

"I'll do this," Kagain replied. He then reached up and tapped the side of his helmet twice with his middle and index fingers.

"That's a bit of an obvious signal, ain't it?" said Imoen.

"Oh it is, is it?" Kagain retorted. "Well, let me know when ya've got years-worth'a runnin' a mercenary company an' I'll get back to ya. Now get movin'!"

"What about the civilians?" Khalid said abruptly. Kagain let out an irritable, frustrated growl, but stopped upon seeing the look on his face.  
"...we do this right, no one'll get hurt."

Khalid fixed him with a cold look not unlike Jaheira's before he slowly turned towards the Candlekeep roommates.

"Wait, wait, wait a minute," said Kagain, pointing at Dorean and walking towards him. "Where's ya crossbow?"

Dorean grimaced behind his beard. "I lost it in the Sheaf."  
"Ya _lost_ it? Whattaya mean ya lost it?!"

Dorean simply stared back at him. Kagain let loose what felt like his twentieth growl of the morning, then took out his own crossbow.

Before Dorean could stop him, the older dwarf tossed him the weapon. He caught it in both arms and immediately staggered backwards, falling flat on his back.

Kagain stared at him for a few seconds. Then, with a loud, anguished snarl, he stomped forward and snatched his crossbow from Dorean's lap.

"Soddin' _useless_ ," he muttered, turning away and loudly stomping back to his own men.

Imoen and Khalid both helped Dorean to his feet. The pink-clad girl glared at Kagain's back, then said a very rude word that made Khalid double-take and look at her in surprise.

"Go on ahead with Khalid, little brother," she said grimly, still glaring at Kagain. "I'll ask Xzar to lend you something."

"Right."

Dorean watched her glide through the crowd towards Xzar's stall, then allowed himself to be guided away by Khalid towards the monument.

..

* * *

After a few tries, Dorean gave up on wearing Xzar's knife-belt properly and placed it over his shoulder to make an improvised bandolier. Taking out one of the throwing knives, the dwarf turned it over in his hands, examining the blade and handle.

"It l-looks ordinary," said Khalid, glancing down at it. "You can find ones like it a-anywhere."

Taking the knife from Dorean, Imoen examined the weapon as well, tapping the point of the blade with her index finger.

"He's pretty good with these," she commented, handing him back the knife.

"We've only seen him use them twice," Dorean replied, replacing it in the belt as a patrol of town militia passed by them. The duo looked over to where Xzar was still peddling his goods. He had attracted a noticeably larger number of potential customers than most of the other stalls.

"He's a bit strange, isn't he?" said Imoen. Dorean decided not to answer.

"He's a Zhent," said Khalid. "You can _never_ trust them, not for a second."

 _Those your words, or your wife's?_ "We'll be careful," said Dorean.

Khalid looked down at him and nodded in approval, then suddenly looked back up.

"That's them."

Dorean followed his gaze and spotted the three men making their way across the town square towards the inn.

 _Odd. None of them are armed._

"They don't look very scary," said Imoen, tilting her head at the trio's clothes of bright green, red and purple.

Dorean almost said, "That's probably the idea," but stopped himself at the last second, frowning at his own thought. _Didn't Silke say that yesterday Feldepost sent them to scare her? These guys aren't intimidating in the slightest._

"Something's wrong," he said, then immediately cursed himself for saying it out loud as Khalid and Imoen looked at him and then back to the three men, their expressions now tensed.

They watched as the Dented Shield mercenaries moved to block their way to Silke, Kagain raising a hand in greeting.

"Stay here," Khalid said. He began moving towards the group.

"Khalid, wait, Kagain hasn't given us the-" Dorean snarled in frustration as the half-elf began pushing and elbowing his way through the crowd. He turned to look at Imoen next to him and saw her step forward.

"Imoen, he said to stay-" Dorean stopped, gave a low, almost dog-like growl, then hurried after her.

Imoen slipped and side-stepped through the crowd, keeping close behind Khalid, while Dorean struggled not to get jostled and kicked by oblivious passers-by. He cursed his own height and stature as he narrowly avoided being hit by a wheelbarrow. He shouted Imoen's name, but his voice was lost in the noise of the street.

Cursing loudly, the dwarf finally reached the edge of a clearing in the crowd and looked upon what promised to be anything but a peaceful scene.

"...ain't muscle, they aren't even armed!" Kagain exclaimed.

"No!" Silke shouted. "It's a trick! You must kill them now, before they strike!"

The alleged thugs were looking around in bewilderment at the mercenaries surrounding them. "K-kill us?! W-w-wha-"

"What are you doing, Silke?!" Garrick cried. "Have you gone mad?!"

"They have bewitched him! My little Garrick!" Silke's voice rose to a shriek. "You must stop them now!"

"Boss?!" The woman Dorean recognized as Maija shouted, her confused expression matching the ones on her fellow mercenaries.

"Hold! Hold it, just watch 'em!" Kagain replied, pointing fiercely at the three brightly-dressed men. He then rounded on and began stomping towards Silke. "Hey, lady, what the hell do ya think ya pulling-"

Silke screamed, her voice piercing the morning air, and raised her arms. Dorean's eyes went wide as white, crackling energy appeared at her hands, billowing her cloak around her.

 _Shit._

At such close range, she could not miss. The bolt of lightning struck Kagain in the chest. His body went into violent spasms, his hair and beard sticking up on end, before he fell onto his back.

"Sorceress!" Maija yelled, drawing her sword. _"Get her now!"_

"Our deal is off!" Silke shouted. "I will deal with them myself, after I deal with _you!_ "

With near-simultaneous battle-cries, the four mercenaries ran towards their esrtwhile-client with weapons raised. They managed to get within eight paces before Silke fired a second lightning bolt. All four of them scattered, but it seared a glancing blow on Maija's shoulder, and she hit the ground screaming in agony. There were shrieks and cries as the bolt carried on into the droves of fleeing onlookers.

"Silke, stop-!"

"Out of my way, Garrick!" The thespian yelled, shoving aside the bard as he attempted to block her way to the three 'thugs.'

Then Khalid appeared at the edge of the crowd, racing past the downed mercs and straight at Silke. The thespian's head snapped towards him, and electrical energy gathered around her for the third time.

Just before she fired, Dorean saw it all; Khalid's body instinctively crouching, ready to dodge sideways to avoid the deadly bolt.

And then...he didn't. He simply steeled himself and raised his shield, taking it head-on. It coursed through the metal and into his arm. The half-elf's body went into rigid spasms before he fell onto his side.

His words to Kagain echoed briefly in Dorean's word. _What about the civilians?_

 _Fool,_ He thought viciously. _**Now**_ _who's going to stop her?_

As Silke moved towards the three cowering men, one of them panicked and turned to run. The thespian promptly raised one hand, and four bright missiles of a pinkish hue slammed into his back, killing him instantly.

The remaining two men fell to their knees. The one nearest to Silke held out a large pouch.

"Here! Take them, just don't kill us! Please!"

Standing just behind the first line of spectators who had either chosen to stay or could not tear themselves away from the scene, Dorean's expression went grim as he looked on.

 _Not me._ _This isn't worth dying over._

"SILKE!"

Eyes snapped towards Garrick, aiming his crossbow at her.

"That's enough! You will harm no one else this day!"

Dorean stared incredulously at him. _This day?! What in the_ _ **hells**_ _are you saying?!_

Silke hesitated, then spread her arms wide as though to invite a hug. "My little Garrick...surely you will not do such a thing to your mistress?"

"...surrender yourself, Silke, and I won't have to."

 _What are you doing?!_ _ **Just shoot her!**_ Dorean silently urged. He looked over at Silke; her face was no longer remotely beautiful to him. An ugly sneer laced her features as she regarded her fellow minstrel.

"Your snivelling altruism has always made me sick, Garrick."

"Get on the ground and place your hands flat, palms down," Garrick ordered.

Instead of obeying him, the thespian slowly raised her hands again.

"Silke!" Garrick shouted, tightening his grip on the bow and pressing his eye to the sight. "Don't! Don't do it or I swear I will-!"

Her hands moved. Garrick fired.

Silke disappeared, and the bolt flew past where she had been, embedding itself in the wall of the inn.

Staggering backwards and dropping his crossbow, Garrick raised his own hands. He appeared to spot something, and yelled, "She's cast Invisibili-"

He saw the build-up of bright pinkish-white, and finished casting his own spell just as the flurry of Magic Missiles struck and hurled him to the ground.

A barely discernable, life-sized image of Silke appeared, flickering in and out of focus. It appeared to look down at Garrick's collapsed form, then turned back to the two remaining thugs. They wept and sobbed as she approached, begging for mercy.

 _This is not my fight_ , Dorean thought grimly, ignoring the pleading men and looking up at Silke. _I have to-_

Off to his right, he spotted a figure dressed in a brown leather gambeson over pink clothing, pushing her way through the crowd and aiming her bow.

 _"Imoen, no-!"_

The arrow sped through the air, halting suddenly in mid-flight, and there was a loud shriek as Silke reappeared, clawing at the arrow in her left shoulder.

"How _dare_ you attack me-!"

With a howl of pain and rage, she violently wrenched the arrow out. Blood sprayed as Silke tossed it aside, turning to face her assailant.

Time slowed. The world turned gray. All sound was muted save for Dorean's slow, thunderous heartbeat.

He saw Imoen panic, fumbling for a second arrow and dropping it. Saw the deadly, blazing-white energy build up around Silke's hands yet again.

Dorean's mind went blank. His feet moved of their own accord, shoving aside the two spectators in his way.

He threw himself into Imoen's stomach, tackling her to the ground just as Silke let loose another lightning bolt.

Something hit him directly in the side, and he immediately blacked out.

When he opened his eyes again, the world had become a blur of noise and swirling colours.

He heard a voice distinctly similar to Imoen's, crying out something resembling his name. Hands reached out to grasp him even as his own body kept her legs pinned.

He wanted to move, to roll off her. But aside from his eye-lids, everything refused to respond.

Imoen's struggling rolled him onto his back. He saw Silke standing over them, blood running down her arm. Her head blocked out the sun, shrouding her face in shadow.

Lightning crackled once again in her hands, illuminating her face. Her eyes were wide, almost bugging out of their sockets, and her lips were curled into a cruel sneer.

His left hand was now resting on the belt of throwing knives across his chest, but he could not move even a finger.

Silke raised her arms up high, like a warrior about to deliver a killing stroke.

In that instant, for just a nano-second, something flashed across Dorean's eyes.

An image of a woman, her face indistinguishable, dressed in a hooded black robe, her arms raised in a near-exact pose of Silke's, lightning crackling at her fingers.

Dorean blinked, and the image fled.

Silke was still standing over them with her arms raised.

The only difference now was that her face had been replaced by the back of her head.

The energy in her hands died, and she slowly fell forward onto the ground with a sickening thump.

Xzar tilted his head, gazing down at the corpse, then calmly stepped past it and kneeled down over Dorean and Imoen.

The dwarf saw and felt the man's hand on his head, gently tousling his hair.

Then the world became a swirl of noise and colour again, and the pain coursing through his body overrode his senses.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

The sounds and shapes around him ceased their spiralling.

Blinking rapidly, Dorean then saw Gorion; the wizard was sitting on a bed, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed.

On the other side of the bed was Dorean's 19-year-old self, quietly reading a book.

 _This was when he came back, twenty years ago. After...whatever it was he had to leave for._ _And if I remember this right, what happened next-_

The door flew open and Ulraunt stormed in, robes billowing behind him and beard almost sweeping up onto his shoulder, followed by an anxious Tethtoril.

"Get up," the Keeper of the Tomes growled, pointing at Gorion with his staff. "Take that _thing_ with you," he swept the staff toward Young-Dorean. "And get out."

Young-Dorean became still and rigid as a statue, his hands maintaining their hold on the book as what little emotion on his face instantly drained away.

Gorion also displayed no reaction, his eyes remaining closed in apparent sleep.

"Ulraunt," said Tethtoril. "I beg of you, please try to-"

"I have tolerated your presence here long enough." Ulraunt planted his staff firmly on the ground. "I _warned_ you not to test me. Now, get out of my castle."

The wizard did not move. A vein bulged in Ulraunt's temple.

"Did you not hear me? I said-"

"How long did you keep him in that cell?"

The words were soft, almost gentle, yet they hit the room like a thunderbolt. Ulraunt instantly went silent. Tethtoril's face slackened, and he slowly started to back away from the Keeper.

Gorion's eyes slowly opened, gazing at the two men. He did not move from the bed.

"Ulraunt," said Tethtoril. "Go. Now."

The Keeper stared silently at Gorion for a long moment. Then, keeping his eyes on the wizard, he slowly turned and made for the door.

A few seconds after he had left, Tethtoril closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then turned back to Gorion.

"I will return shortly and...and I will explain everything."

Gorion nodded silently in answer. The Reader hesitated, then nodded back. He gave another nod to Young-Dorean and then left, closing the door behind him.

Silence filled the room again. After a moment, Gorion turned his gaze from the door to Young-Dorean. The little dwarf stared quietly back at him, his face as unreadable as it was the day he left three months ago.

Gorion then slid closer and, after a moment's hesitation, reached out towards him. The dwarf blinked, but neither flinched nor shrank away.

The wizard examined his injuries, gently feeling the bandages wrapped around his small torso and his forehead. Young-Dorean did not respond to his touch, his expression stony and dead-eyed.

 _Those injuries...in those three months._ Dorean blinked and lowered his head. _Can't remember much of what happened then. Still mostly foggy to me._

Finally, Gorion took the little dwarf's hands in his own. He quietly examined the bandages covering them from fingers to wrist, then looked up at his face.

An entire minute passed with neither of them speaking or moving.

"I am sorry for leaving you," Gorion said at last. "And for taking so long to come back." He grasped the tiny hands in his palms, gently closing his fingers around them. "I won't leave you again. I promise."

Gorion paused. He then leaned forward and wrapped his arms around the dwarf.

Young-Dorean blinked several times, staring straight ahead. Then he slowly lowered his face into Gorion's shoulder.

Dorean felt his own feet move, his footsteps light and soundless, until he was standing next to the bed. He looked up at the man hugging his younger self, and his left hand reached out to touch him.

However, he could not make contact; as though the distance between them was further than an arm's reach.

He lowered his hand and stood there, staring up at his foster father.

"...but you did. And for good this time," he said. "You left me alone again."

He felt the unbidden tears flow down his face into his beard.

He did not know how long he remained that way; if it was a minute or an hour. Eventually, however, a flicker of movement caught his eye.

Young-Dorean was now looking at him from over Gorion's shoulder.

"You are not alone," he said softly.

Dorean blinked rapidly. He then opened his mouth to speak when a sudden, overwhelming stab of pain erupted in his chest, and his vision was filled again by pools of golden light.

..

* * *

Dorean's eyes slammed open and he immediately began gasping violently for air.

Next to him, Imoen watched in horror as the dwarf writhed on the bed clutching and clawing at his chest, then looked up at the couple several paces away.

 _"Jaheira!"_

In answer to her name, the Tethyrian raced from Khalid's bedside to Dorean's. She ran a swift eye over the dwarf, and Imoen's alarm rose upon seeing the confusion in her eyes.

"He's h-having a seizure or, or a heart attack!" she cried. _"Do something!"_

Jaheira looked up at her.

"I-"

Her eyes widened as Xzar moved from where he had been standing near the wall, coming up to the bed. Pushing Imoen aside, he swiftly placed one hand under the head of the squirming, gasping dwarf, lifting it slightly off the pillow.

Xzar's other hand produced a glass vial, deftly removing the stopper with a single flick of his thumb, and he had it lifted to Dorean's lips for a single second when it was suddenly wrenched from his grip and dashed onto the floor.

Jaheira's other hand grabbed a fistful of Xzar's robes and shoved him hard away from the bed. Dorean's head fell back down and the liquid still in his throat entered his windpipe. His gasps turned into violent chokes.

"What did you do to him?!" Jaheira yelled.

The wizard stared down at the broken remnants of the vial, its murky contents spreading over the floor. He then looked up at Jaheira, his green eyes wide and aflame.

"That was _very_ rude," he whispered. His hands glowed blue, and he slowly stepped towards her.

Khalid was on his feet in an instant, placing himself between Xzar and Dorean's bed with teeth bared and sword in hand.

a nearby corner, Montaron calmly eased himself from the wall, his right hand reaching into the folds of his shirt.

Dorean then suddenly gave a violent retch and rolled sideways off of the bed, barely missing Jaheira's feet as he landed hard on the floor. With a sob, Imoen ran to and kneeled down next to him.

The half-elves, halfling and wizard all froze, their weapons and spells in hand. They watched the dwarf vomit onto the floor as a teary-eyed Imoen vigorously rubbed his back.

Dorean then suddenly struggled to his feet, still rasping in pain.

"I've had it."

Ignoring Imoen's grip on his clothes, he grabbed his pack from the side of the bed and slung it onto his shoulders, nearly hitting Jaheira with it.

"I've had enough," he growled, keeping his head lowered and not looking at any of them. "Kill each other if you want. I'm leaving."

Moving to the door, he shoved it open with his shoulder and staggered out into the corridor.

He had gone ten paces before the dull agony in his chest flared up again, and he stumbled forward onto one knee.

Hurrying over to him and slinging Gorion's pack and Winthrop's foodbag over her shoulder, Imoen kneeled beside him again.

"I got you, little brother."

He looked at her face for a long moment before allowing his arm to be taken in hers.

"...let's go," he said.

Imoen hesitated for a second. She then nodded resolutely, wiping the tears from her face with her free hand.

Lifting him slowly to his feet, Imoen pulled Dorean close, leaning him into her. They then made their slow, hobbling way down the corridor together.

The shuffling of footsteps somewhere behind told them that the others had decided to follow. Neither of them looked back.

..

* * *

The voices of an angry dwarf and an apologetic minstrel echoed from an open doorway towards them.

"Mister Kagain, I am so sorry for-"

"You're _sorry_? Is that all ya haveta say, you're _sorry_?"

"Mister Kagain, I swear, I truly didn't know that-"

"I don't care what ya didn't know! Ya got me an' my guys into this soddin' job, an' by Clangeddin, ya gonna..."

They emerged into an area that Dorean immediately recognized as the main lobby of the Dented Shield headquarters.

Kagain, appearing none the worse for wear, was speaking to Garrick, while Bartholomew Witton and Ajantis were standing nearby off to the side. Aside from them, the lobby appeared to be empty.

Upon seeing them, Kagain turned away from Garrick and began walking towards them.

"About time ya woke up," he snapped, his beard-obscured features twisting into a contemptuous sneer as he eyed the young dwarf being supported by the human girl. "I didn't take ya on so ya can take sodding _naps_ in my med wing. An' I thought Montaron at least-"

Letting go of Dorean, Imoen marched up to Kagain and slapped him across the face.

For a long moment, there was no sound save for its echo. Kagain stared up at Imoen, mouth tightly shut and eyes wide.

"He was hurt because of _you_ ," Imoen snarled, stabbing her finger into Kagain's beard-covered chest. "You _promised_ to make sure it was safe," she stabbed her finger hard into his chest again. "You _lied_ to us, you little-"

With a loud growl, Kagain's hand closed around her wrist.

There was a flurry of sound and movement as Dorean, Jaheira, Khalid and Xzar all reacted at once, drawing their knife, quarterstaff, sword, and throwing daggers. Montaron merely stared quietly, his right hand once again drifting towards his shirt.

"Don't you _touch her!_ " Dorean snarled. Kagain's blue eyes flashed, and he looked on the verge of rage as his voice rose to a shout.

"Ya dare ta draw on me in my own-"

 _"ENOUGH!"_

The word echoed throughout the lobby, far louder than the slap. Everyone stopped and turned to look at the young man standing next to a now-recoiling Witton.

With a deep breath, Ajantis marched across the lobby towards them, planting himself five paces from Kagain and Imoen.

"Master Kagain," he said, voice stern and commanding. "Whatever dispute or grievance you may have with these folk, your current conduct is unbecoming of both a gentleman _and a dwarf_."

Kagain stiffened at the words. Ajantis did not back down.

"Release her, Master Kagain, or I _will_ be forced to take action."

Kagain stared at him for a full five seconds. He then looked at Imoen and roughly let go of her wrist. Imoen did not back away from him, returning his glare with one of her own.

"As for the rest of you," said Ajantis, turning to the party. "You are all civilized adults. Please, put your weapons away." He looked at each of them in turn.

Slowly, the party obeyed him. Dorean then grimaced and lowered his head as another jolt of pain stabbed him in the chest.

Ajantis frowned and took a step forward, but Dorean, without looking up, silently headed for the door, taking Imoen by the arm and pulling her with him.

With a shuffling of footsteps, Khalid, Jaheira, Xzar and Montaron quietly followed them.

Kagain watched them leave, his blue eyes lingering on and narrowing at Montaron as the latter casually walked past him.

..

* * *

Barely managing to stay on his feet, Dorean managed to get a few blocks down the street before the pain flaring in his chest caused him to stumble painfully against the wall of a nearby house. Passersby looked on as Imoen kneeled beside, and more than a few of them muttered under their breath about drunken dwarves.

"Dorean," said Imoen, her anxiety rising again as she watched him slowly slide down the wall onto the street. "Dorean, please. You need to rest, you need to-"

"No," he hissed between his teeth. _No resting. No closing my eyes._

"You shouldn't be moving around," Imoen urged, her own breathing starting to resemble his own as she saw the sweat pouring down his forehead. Tears began to well in her eyes again.

A shadow fell across them, and Imoen looked up in time to see Xzar kneel beside her.

Pushing her aside again, Xzar quietly examined Dorean's face, his own oddly impassive.

He turned his head slightly as Khalid and Jaheira approached, but otherwise did not react to them.

When he removed a vial similar to the first one, however, the half-elves immediately stepped forward.

"Stop it!" Imoen yelled at them, drawing more looks from the locals. "Just stop! He's just trying to _help_ him!"

The Harpers froze, looking at Imoen and then at each other. Khalid's expression was somehow more grim than Jaheira's as he turned his gaze onto the back of Xzar's head.

Ignoring them, Xzar held the vial up in front of Dorean.

"You decide," he said, his voice low yet loud enough for all of them to hear.

Dorean managed to hesitate for five seconds before taking the object from Xzar, removing the stopper with trembling fingers, and shakily downing the contents in one go.

The pain in his chest slowly but steadily began to recede.

Eventually, Dorean's breathing steadied and his body relaxed, its shoulders sagging as he leaned into the wall.

"...are you okay?" Imoen asked quietly. He quietly returned her gaze for a few seconds before nodding.

Her lower lip trembling, Imoen then threw herself onto the dwarf, hugging him around the head and smothering his face in her chest.

"Mmph-! Ge-off, I can't-"

"Don't you _ever_ scare me like that ever again!" she wailed. "That's twice now you've done this to me today!"

"I said get off!" Dorean finally succeeded in shoving her away, coughing and spitting strands of her hair out of his mouth and beard. Imoen smiled down at him, wiping away the tears at her eyes.

She then looked at Xzar, who blinked at her smile, then promptly hugged him as well.

Xzar froze in his kneeling position, staring straight ahead.

He then opened his mouth and screamed at the top of his voice, "STOP TOUCHING ME!"

Imoen's eyes went wide, though she did not release the hug. Xzar shoved her away from him, causing her to fall on her rump. He scrambled backwards away from her and struggled to his feet, staring at her surprised and bewildered expression, then turned and ran full-pelt down the street, knocking aside several bystanders.

There was a lull in the general hubbub of the street as the party along with numerous townsfolk stared after him. The only exception was Montaron, who quietly tilted his head at Imoen before walking up to them.

"We should get somethin' to eat," he said idly. The rest of the party blinked and turned to look at him. "Not the inns. Word's got around about us, an' it ain't friendly. Nor safe, with the bounty on ye head," he added to Dorean. He turned to Jaheira. "Best to go to ye friend's place. The one ye saw last night."

Jaheira went very still, staring down at the halfling. He returned her gaze for a few more seconds before turning away.

"Don't fall behind."

He walked past them down the street. The others hesitated, looking at each other (except for Jaheira who continued to stare at Montaron), before Imoen helped Dorean to his feet and they silently began following the halfling before he could be swallowed up by the crowd.

..

* * *

They walked in silence, following Montaron through the now-crowded streets while avoiding the unfriendly and suspicious eyes of the townsfolk.

Imoen remained beside Dorean despite the latter's insistence that he no longer needed her to support him, repeatedly glancing over her shoulder and looking oddly guilty.

Behind them, Khalid looked worriedly at the dwarf. "H-how are you feeling?"

Dorean paused for a few seconds, then looked over his shoulder at him. "I am feeling fine now." He paused. "How about you? You took a pretty bad hit back there."

Khalid blinked, glancing at Jaheira who was still watching Montaron. "I...I-I-I am alright." He paused, his eyes darting between Dorean and Imoen.

"...I am sorry. What happened earlier...it was my fault. I should have been able to protect you."

Dorean blinked quietly, gazing up at him.

 _Guilt. I could use that, if it's genuine._ "There's nothing to be sorry for, Khalid," the dwarf replied.

He gave the half-elf a few brief pats on the forearm and a smile, then turned back to face Montaron while carefully avoiding Jaheira's eyes.

Eventually, they stopped in front of an unremarkable, two-storey house with a blue roof, and Montaron turned to Jaheira and silently gestured with his head towards the door. She stared at him quietly for a few seconds before glancing at the others.

"Wait here."

She then walked past Montaron, climbed the steps to the front door and rapped on it with her knuckles.

It opened a crack, and they heard a confused (and slightly nervous) voice say Jaheira's name.

"Is that...?" said Imoen.

"...it is," said Dorean.

The door opened further, revealing Firebead Elvenhair standing behind it. He stared in silent surprise at the group standing on his front porch. Khalid, Dorean and Imoen stared back.

Then Imoen bounded up the front steps, brushing past Jaheira, and hugged the tall scholar around his mid-riff.

"Firebead! It's so good to see you!"

Firebead appeared momentarily stunned, reflexively placing his hands on Imoen's shoulders. He looked down at her face as she released the hug, and his eyes widened when he then looked at Dorean and spotted the thick bandage around his forehead.

"Are you both alright? I heard about what happened..."

"Better if we talk inside," Montaron interrupted. Firebead blinked at him, then at Jaheira. He hesitated and then slowly nodded.

"Come in."

Dorean hesitated before climbing the steps and following Imoen into the house. Ushering them in, Firebead glanced quietly at Jaheira before following the two roommates inside.

The two Harpers stared quietly at Montaron, conveying their silent warning together.

The halfling ignored them both, climbing the steps to the front door and dropping his pack and short-sword on the floor after stepping over the threshold.

..

* * *

Despite having other food in his home (mainly from trading with Beregost's market vendors and the occasional travelling merchant), most of Firebead's food came in packaged meals from Feldepost's Inn.

Having refused the bread buns and tarts, Dorean chewed on his third pear, listening as the party and Firebead swapped stories of their experiences within the past few days.

Normally, he would have concentrated on every word, particularly on Firebead, searching for any lapse or hesitation while they spoke.

However, when Firebead began telling them about being led by Elminster to Gorion's grave, images appeared in Dorean's mind.

 _Bright, blinding gold, where the eyes of a man in massive armour should be._

 _The same in the eyes of his own younger self from twenty years ago._  
He slowly lowered the half-eaten fruit to the table, lost in his own thoughts.

 _There is a connection there, somehow. There has to be_.

His expression darkened as he recalled his agony from barely an hour ago, and the one who had relieved it.

 _Xzar knows something about this. About what's happening to me._

"...Dorean?" Firebead's voice rose to the fore of his senses. The dwarf blinked and looked up at the old man's face.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"...I am," Dorean answered. "I just...a lot has happened today."

Firebead nodded understandably, then glanced at Montaron who alone out of everyone had remained silent since entering the house. "Montaron, is it?"

The halfling nodded.

"I understand that you and your...partner," he glanced at Jaheira and Imoen. "Prepared Gorion's final resting place." He bowed his head solemnly. "You have my thanks."

Montaron merely blinked at him and sipped his tea. His expression did not change in the slightest.

Turning hesitantly away from him, Firebead slowly looked from Dorean to Imoen. He then turned his head to look at Khalid and Jaheira, lowered his head, then lifted it again, appearing to come to a resolution.

"If it is alright with all of you, I wish to make an offer to Dorean and Imoen."

The roommates exchanged looks. "What is it?" Imoen asked for them.

"I will be travelling to Baldur's Gate soon, likely as early as this evening. And, if you both wish it, you could come with me."

Silence settled around the table, all eyes (even Montaron's) focused on the old scholar.

"What has happened to both of you..." he went on, shaking his head as he looked at the healing cuts on Imoen's face and the bandage around Dorean's forehead. "And with this bounty..." He then turned to Khalid and Jaheira with a frown. "And you intend to take them with you to Nashkel? With all the rumours surrounding the place, including one of impending war?"

Neither of the half-elves spoke. Khalid's eyes lowered to the table, though his head did not. Jaheira stared back at Firebead, her expression unreadable.

"And you, Montaron?" said Firebead, his voice noticeably cooler as he looked at the halfling seated at the far end of the table. "Forgive me for what I have to say, especially to a guest...but are you truly willing to put these two at risk for the sake of acquiring their aid in your investigation?"

"Yeah," Montaron immediately answered. He calmly returned Firebead's cold gaze, stirring the tea in his mug with a small wooden spoon.

"...I see," the scholar said at last. He then turned back to Dorean and Imoen, raising his hands as the latter opened her mouth to speak. "I understand, Imoen; you are both adults now, and can make your own decisions. However, I urge you to consider your current course." He glanced at Khalid and Jaheira again. "Do you truly still wish to go to Nashkel with them? Or would you rather come with me to the city, where it is safe?" He paused, watching the girl and dwarf's expressions. "I have friends in the city who can hide and protect you, from both the bounty hunters and the one who sent them." He looked once again at Dorean's head-wound. "You were very fortunate this time. You will not always be, and you can trust an old man's word on that."

There was a moment of silence. Jaheira and Khalid met Firebead's gaze, then each other's.

"...Firebead is correct," Jaheira said at last. "Regardless of what we may want from you," she glanced coldly at Montaron. "You should be allowed to decide your next course."

Imoen looked quietly into each and every face; Jaheira's, Khalid's, Montaron's and Firebead's. She then lowered her gaze, her fingers rubbing idly against her fork.

Finally, she slowly turned her head to look at Dorean.

"What do you think, little brother?"

He hesitated for a long moment, looking into her green eyes.

 _You're leaving this all up to me._

She nodded, as though he had said the sentence out loud. Dorean's gaze slowly dropped to the table.

For a long moment, the most prominent sound in the house seemed to be his own breathing; slow, deep and quiet. Everybody watched him, awaiting his decision.

He hesitated in thought, feeling the unusualy warmth of the Harper pin in his pocket through the fabric of his trousers.

He then slowly raised his head, looking up at Firebead.

"...thank you, Mister Elvenhair. Truly." He paused. "But I feel I must decline." He paused again, lowering his gaze to the table.

"My father told me something, on the night that we left. He said that if anything were to happen, that I should find the two people whom he would entrust my life to more than anyone else." He looked at Firebead again, deliberately averting his gaze from Khalid and Jaheira. "I apologize."

The old man looked down at him for a moment. He then nodded.

"I understand, Dorean."

The dwarf hesitated, wondering if he should say something about Montaron, then decided against it. _Flattery doesn't work on him. It will have to be something else._

"What about you, Imoen?" said Firebead. "Do you-"

"I'm staying," she answered, her voice and face suddenly firm and resolute.

The scholar blinked. "Are you sure you-"

"I am."

Firebead leaned back slightly, then released his breath in an audible sigh and nodded with a smile.

Dorean looked up at Imoen's face. Without looking back, she placed her hand on his, giving it a light squeeze.

"In that case, I must insist on helping you by other means," said Firebead, standing up from the table and moving to a large chest in the corner beneath the stairs. "And I won't take 'no' for an answer this time."

Dorean and Imoen looked at each other, then stood up (or in Dorean's case hopped off) their chairs to follow him.

..

* * *

"I don't know how we could ever repay you," said Imoen, looking at the books and scroll case in her arms and the wands, potions and coin pouches in Dorean's.

"Just stay safe, Imoen," Firebead answered, smiling warmly at her. "And keep your brother safe as well."

Imoen paused for a moment, her head lowered, then lifted her gaze to his. "I will," she said, suddenly serious again.

She paused again, then turned and placed the books and scoll case onto Dorean's already laden arms. He scowled at her as she wrapped her arms around Firebead's chest.

His eyes narrowed briefly as he noticed the scholar's half-second of hesitation before warmly returning the hug.

He then blinked when a hand appeared from beside him, reaching for the top of the pile of items in his arms.

Taking the two books, Montaron silently looked at their covers, his expression not budging from its usual deadpan. He then went very still, his black eyes looking off at nothing as he held the books in his hands.

Then he promptly dumped them back in Dorean's arms, and walked away. Ignoring Khalid and Jaheira, he headed straight for the door, picking up his pack and short-sword along the way, and went out into the street.

Khalid continued to glare in Montaron's direction. Jaheira did not.

Dorean slowly turned away to avoid eye contact with her for the umpteenth time. He pretended to listen to Imoen and Firebead trading respective promises to visit him in Baldur's Gate and to have the famed Balduran's roast prepared for them when they arrive.

 _I am not safe anywhere. Candlekeep, Baldur's Gate._

His gaze lingered on Firebead. _Don't trust you either._ He paused in his own thoughts. _Who can I trust, then?_

His expression softened as he watched Imoen hug Firebead again, her eyes closed and her lips curled into a grin as she pressed her cheek to his mid-riff.

 _You are not alone._

The dwarf lowered his head, lost in his own thoughts.

After a moment, he blinked as he remembered something, and craned his neck to look over the pile of items at the book on top.

 _The History of the Dead Three._

He blinked again, then filed the information away for later as Imoen hopped over to argue and barter with him over the items.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

"What will you do now?" said Firebead.

"Visit the smithy again," Jaheira answered. "Then return to the mercenary. We have a diplomat to escort."

The two of them watched from the entranceway of the house as Dorean entered the living room.

"Very kind of you, making the short, wounded one clear the dishes," he said loudly, climbing onto one of the chairs at the dining table. Imoen's voice floated airily from the kitchen.

"You can do the washing if you'll take the gloves off."

Muttering under his breath, the dwarf hopped off the chair with a plate in each hand, returning to the kitchen as Khalid's voice emitted from next to Imoen's.

"M-maybe I should..."

"Nope," said Imoen. "If he's gonna be a stubborn little baby about it, then he can do the fetching. Could you stack these for me?"

Jaheira and Firebead listened to the sound of clinking plates for a few seconds.

"I know of Kagain," said the scholar. "He...has his faults, but he serves a good cause."

"So long as it nets him a profit."

"The caravans need to get to Baldur's Gate, Jaheira. Along with this Witton fellow. He may be able to avert war with Amn."

"Or hasten it," Jaheira replied, watching a grumbling Dorean return to the dining table and climb onto one of the chairs again. The dwarf had steadfastly refused their assistance. Noticing that Firebead had tilted his head at her, she then gave a low sigh. "We could already be halfway to Nashkel by now. Ghastkill's request was urgent."

Firebead nodded in understanding, quietly waiting for her to speak further. Jaheira lowered her head, looking uncomfortable, before finally turning to face him.

"Listen-"

"If anything were to happen to Nadine or Euric, Deneir forbid, and I thought you may have been involved, I would have done the same," said Firebead, and for a few seconds, there was a cold, hardened gleam to his eyes. Then he smiled warmly. "I suppose I should be flattered that you didn't take any chances with me. And here I was starting to think I had gone rusty with age."

"The halfling followed me here last night," Jaheira whispered, now dead-serious. "You need to leave now. Today." The old scholar's expression briefly changed to match hers before he nodded.

"Been meaning to settle down for good anyway," he replied softly. "I don't have much reason to visit Candlekeep now with Gorion gone." He paused as Jaheira looked away, her face clouded. They again watched as Dorean, grumbling more loudly this time, struggled onto another chair.

"You have to start eating less," the dwarf called out, grabbing no less than five plates from what had been Imoen's side of the table.

"I will if you start eating more," Imoen answered. The dwarf entered the kitchen yet again, still mumbling under his breath.

"This bounty doesn't make any sense," Firebead said abruptly. "Gunnhallur Silvershield disappeared seven years ago. Why not frame him for something more recent?" He looked at Jaheira's expression. "You don't truly think he was involved in it?"

"I don't know if he was."

"Jaheira..."

"Nor could I confirm it without a thorough investigation. Which I am unable to conduct for now."

Firebead hesitated, looking to the kitchen where the sounds of dish-washing and bickering roommates could be heard.

"I will look into it."

"...thank you," said the half-elf. Firebead smiled and gave her a pat on the shoulder.

"Whoever set it up may be the same people who killed Gorion," Jaheira added grimly. "If you find something, I want to know as soon as possible."

"...and what do you intend to do once you've learned their identities?" Firebead asked, his face clearly showing that he already knew the answer.

Jaheira glanced at him, quiet and unblinking.

Unnoticed by either, Dorean hopped off the sixth and final chair with Montaron's plates in hand, still pretending to grumble as he silently contemplated what he had overheard.

..

* * *

Following behind Khalid and Jaheira, Dorean and Imoen stepped through the open double doors into the Dented Shield headquarters, then stopped in the centre of the empty lobby and looked around.

"Where is everyone?" said Imoen.

"Most of 'em are still stuck at the Red Sheaf under questioning," said a familiar voice behind them. Dorean stiffened, took a quick breath, then turned around more slowly than Khalid and Jaheira had. Imoen, however, merely blinked and looked over her shoulder at Montaron.

Ignoring the reactions of the two Harpers to his sudden appearance, the halfling stepped forward and held out his hand. Dorean blinked at the sight of his two knives in its palm, then took and tucked them in his belt.

"Been gone almost two hours since I left ye friend's house," said Montaron, ignoring the dwarf's nod of gratitude. His eyes moved to the new crossbow on the dwarf's back, then to Imoen whose gambeson was now gone.

"Sorry," replied Dorean, jerking a thumb at the weapon. "Had to test-fire four of these before I was satisfied."

" _And_ he made me wear three of these before he could decide which one was best," said Imoen, lifting the hem of her pink shirt to reveal the studded leather gambeson underneath. "Plus he shot me eight times."

"Would you rather I had used real arrows instead of dummy ones?"

"They still hurt!"

"D-d-do you two ever stop arguing?" Khalid asked. The duo turned to look at him.

"Do you want us to?" said Dorean. Khalid looked at him and then at Jaheira.

"No," he said simply, not taking his eyes off her. Jaheira blinked, then pouted at him. Khalid smiled back.

Dorean kept his face straight, holding back a frown.

 _Trying to make us relate to you?_

He turned away and almost did a double-take upon seeing Montaron. For a fleeting half-second, the halfling had lost his usual impassive demeanour; he appeared almost doleful.

Then Montaron's eyes snapped to his, narrowing to slits. Dorean leaned back very slightly, barely suppressing an urge to back away.

"...war room," said Montaron. "Let's go."

He strode past the four of them towards a door on the north-east side of the lobby.

"Do you know where Xzar is?" asked Imoen, turning to follow him.

He neither answered nor looked back at her.

..

* * *

The 'war room' appeared to also serve as a storage room. Barrels, crates, boxes and sacks lined the walls.

In the centre was a large, low table, absent of chairs and currently surrounded by Kagain, Jessa, Ajantis and the female half-elf/orc mercenary. They all turned towards the door as Montaron led the party inside.

Kagain's eyes met Imoen's and he glowered at her, but otherwise said nothing. Noticing this, Dorean glanced at Montaron before looking away.

"I heard you were involved in an altercation at the Burning Wizard shortly after I and my men left you outside the temple," said Jessa, her tone crisp and unfriendly. She held up a hand before any of them could speak. "And I have already spoken to Kagain and the minstrel Garrick. We have found no reason to suspect any of you were at fault."

Dorean released the breath he had been holding and looked around. "Where is Garrick?"

"He left an hour ago for our headquarters to speak with the two men who survived Rosena's attempt to murder them."

"And you remained here," said Jaheira, her tone hinting that she already knew the reason why.

"If youse are done jabberin'," said Kagain, cutting off Jessa before she could answer. "Maybe we can get ta talkin' 'bout somethin' useful. Get over here, alla yas."

Walking up to the table, Imoen's eyes widened upon seeing the enormous sheet of parchment on it. She leaned over and stared down at the intricately-detailed map.

"Wow...who made this?"

"Her," said Ajantis, smiling at the half-elf/orc. "Lene is the Dented Shields' cartographer."

Imoen's face broke into a grin. "This is beautiful," she said, tracing her fingers over a drawing of Baldur's Gate. Lene blinked and fidgeted slightly.

"Get ya hands off of it," Kagain snapped. "Now, if all of ya-"

"Excuse me," said Dorean. Kagain growled and looked at him.

"What?"

"Could I get something to stand on?"

There was a moment of silence as the party all looked at the dwarf. Montaron glanced at the table, which was low enough for even him to see all of the map.

Kagain then sighed, and thirty seconds later, Dorean was standing atop a crate.

"Before I start, I wanna make something very, _very_ clear; everything we talk about here an' now, we keep to ourselves. Understand?" Kagain took a moment to look around at the other eight faces standing at the table. "Good. Now-"

"Shouldn't Xzar be here?" said Imoen, looking back at the door and thus not noticing everyone turning to look at her.

"I'll fill him in later," Montaron answered after a moment.

"Vai here," said Kagain loudly, clearly having reached his limit for interruptions. "Is gonna be comin' with us an' the caravan to Baldur's Gate. Kelddath's hired her ta help us out."

"Governor Ormlyr is not _hiring_ us," Jessa replied, clearly unhappy about this arrangement. "My company is responsible for the lives of the townsfolk."

Kagain sneered. "Yeah. Sure. An' ya doin' it fer free too. Outta the goodness of ya heart." He met Jessa's jaw-clenched glare for several seconds, then turned to Lene, who spoke immediately without prompting.

"The caravan consists of eleven wagons and around thirty to forty people, not counting the escort. We have eight men at the ready, including Kagain and myself, and another eight wounded, undergoing healing as we speak."

Dorean frowned as he listened to the woman's voice; it appeared to be a strange mix of the light, silvery tone akin to an elf and the deep, throaty tone of an orc or hobgoblin.

"How many men do you have available, Officer Vai?" Lene went on, turning to the other female mercenary.

Jessa briefly lowered her head. "Nine or ten, including myself."

"That is all you have?" said Ajantis.

"The Shield is not the only company that has lost people to the bandits," Jessa replied. "Me men are needed to guard the town and patrol the surrounding woods."

"But surely you could spare more-"

"We have already had this discussion before, Squire Ivarstarr," Jessa said tersely. "I would rather not repeat it."

"Yeah, shut ya trap," said Kagain. "Ya only here as a courtesy."

Ajantis looked at both of them in turn, then closed his eyes, breathed in and out through his nose, and bowed his head.

"I apologize." He paused, noticing the party's stares. "Lord Witton and I joined the caravan when it left Athkatla. Ten men were assigned to guard him." He paused again, avoiding everyone's eyes. "I am the only one left now."

"I'm sorry," said Dorean.

"...thank you," Ajantis replied. He then blinked upon feeling Khalid's hand on his shoulder, and gave a deep, drawn-out breath before nodding to the Calishite.

"Hey," said Kagain. "Ya done cryin'? Wanna get back to this before we all die'a old age?" He snorted disdainfully as everyone save Dorean, Montaron and Lene glared at him. "He's right, though; we need more men for this job."

"I will see if I could bring in more of my people," said Jessa. "I have also sent word throughout the town asking for armed volunteers and freelance mercenaries. For whom the Flaming Fist will provide payment if they agree to escort the caravan with us," she added to Kagain. The dwarf gave a loud grunt of disapproval, but did not press the subject.

"Now, Montaron told us that the bastards who took out the last caravan attacked it here," Kagain placed a finger on the map just north of the (beautifully-made) drawing of Beregost. "So this time, I say we avoid the road."

Taking out a quill pen and ink bottle, Kagain began tracing a line north from the Song of the Morning Temple.

"We'll take the same route you guys took ta get here," said Kagain. "East of the road, then north to the Friendly Arm."

"Miles of open ground with no cover," said Khalid.

"Exactly. Means we'll see 'em comin'. I ain't settin' myself up fer an ambush again."

"What about the people in the caravan?" Khalid asked. Kagain growled, rolled his eyes and fixed the half-elf with a pointed glare.

"They ain't ya concern."

"E-excuse me?"

"I _said_ , they ain't ya concern. The whiny four-eyed noble is."

"The bandits have skilled archers, and you want to march f-f-forty people across _that_?"

Kagain's bared teeth became visible as he sneered up at Khalid.

"Hey, know what else I want? For you to shut ya trap."

As Lene sighed and looked away, Khalid and Jaheira stiffened, glaring fiercely down at the dwarf who gave yet another contemptuous snort.

"Heard what happened to ya. Took a lightning bolt for strangers instead'a protectin' ya own. Soddin' moron."

Jessa frowned and looked at Khalid. A muscle twitched in Jaheira's jaw as she stepped up beside her husband, tightening the grip on her quarterstaff. "Do you often arrange for your clients to be killed after they have paid you?"

The dwarf snarled and called her something that made Jessa and Ajantis take offense.

As everyone else descended into a muddied quarrel, Imoen looked at Montaron who was calmly eating an avocado, at Lene who was covering her face with her hand, and finally at Dorean. The dwarf was fixated on the map, ignoring the spectacle around him.

Imoen's brow furrowed, but before she could speak, Dorean raised his hand and slapped the table, causing everyone to stop arguing and look at him.

"Kagain's right," he said, keeping his gaze on the map. "I'm sorry Khalid, but you have seen what happened to the caravan north of here. The bandits have set themselves along the roads too well; it'll be suicide to use them. Either way," he paused, not looking up and keeping his expression solemn, "If we are attacked, people will most likely die. At least if we see them coming, we'll have a chance to mount a defence and drive off or kill them before they inflict too many casualties." He then pointed to where Kagain's line ran through the drawing of the plain east of the road. "What about the ogre?"

Kagain frowned, then jerked a thumb at Montaron. "He told me about it. Don't worry, me an' my guys'll take care of it."

Dorean raised an eyebrow. "Right," he said shortly. Kagain narrowed his eyes at him. "So, should we put it to a vote?"

He looked around the table, keeping his gaze steady as his eyes travelled from person to person, reaching Jaheira last. She stared coolly at him, their eyes now almost level with each other due to the crate, then turned to Kagain.

"When is the caravan leaving?"

Kagain glanced at Dorean for a moment before answering. "Tomorrow at dawn. I want this done fast."

"We _don't_ have enough men," Ajantis insisted. "We need more time to prepare."

"Numbers are not everything, squire," said Jessa. "And I say again, I will do what I can to bolster them."

Ajantis hesitated, then nodded. "Then I will help you."

"No, ya won't," Kagain said firmly.

"We only have one day to muster more men."

"Yeah, but ya wearin' the colours of the Radiant Heart in Athkatla, an' there ain't much love for Amn around here right now," Kagain replied. Ajantis scowled at him.

"Master Kagain, with all due respect, I think-"

"I don't care what ya think. Get back to the temple an' guardin' ya master. An' get 'im a shield an' some armour, that fancy suit'a his won't save him from an arrow."

Kagain then turned away. Ajantis glared at the dwarf, his mailed hands clenching into fists, before uncurling them and deflating slightly. "Very well."

Kagain snorted, then looked at the party. "As for the rest of ya, ya will be helpin' him protect the diplomat," he jerked his thumb at Ajantis. "Never mind the civvies, my guys'll take care a'them.

"We'll decide who we protect," said Jaheira, though she glanced with a frown at Dorean instead of him. "Not you." Kagain sneered at her.

"Fine. But if he dies, it's on all of us."

"And don't you forget that," said Jessa. Kagain turned a baleful eye up at her.

"Don't ya tell me what not to forget."

The two mercenaries exchanged contemptuous glares, the atmospheric effect ruined somewhat by Montaron loudly biting and chewing his avocado. Imoen looked from Kagain to Jessa and then spoke, her tone innocuous.

"Are you two together?"

Everyone stared at her. Montaron stopped chewing.

"Get outta here," said Kagain. "All'a ya. Temple, dawn, tomorrow."

Jessa blinked at Imoen and then, without looking at Kagain, turned away from the table and walked towards the door. She stopped at the doorway, then slowly turned around.

"One other thing; should any of you attempt to escape, I will have you all brought to Baldur's Gate in chains." She stared straight at Dorean, then turned and left.

"...sodding Fist," Kagain grunted after a moment's silence. "Think they run this whole sodding country." He turned to Lene. "Go to the Sheaf an' get our boys ready. An' you," he looked at Ajantis. "Don't get any ideas about helpin' out, y'hear? Ya go straight ta the temple, an' ya _stay there_ , understand?"

Ajantis gave a heavy, frustrated sigh and then nodded. Kagain looked at the party.

"Whattaya all still doin' here? Get outta here. Temple at dawn, sharp."

Slowly, everyone began to move towards the door, all except Dorean, who stroked his beard while looking at the map. Imoen paused halfway across the room, looking back at her roommate. Kagain rolled his eyes at the younger dwarf.

"What now, ya admiring the penmanship or somethin'?"

Dorean paused, then lifted his head and looked at Kagain. "Do you know anyone here aside from Fuiruim who sells enchanted items?"

Kagain blinked and then frowned. "I might. What's it to ya?"

"I've seen the bandits, and I want my people to have better gear."

Kagain hesitated. After a moment, he nodded. "Marcus Feldepost. He can get ya what ya need."

"Thank you." With that, Dorean hopped off the crate and started to walk away, then stopped. "Almost forgot."

He turned and tossed the Star Sapphire over the table. Kagain caught it in both hands, looked at it, then frowned at him.

"Paying you in advance," Dorean said simply.

Imoen stared. So did the others, most of them lingering at the doorway.

After a moment, Kagain snorted and tossed the gem back. Without looking at it, Dorean caught it in one hand, blinking at the mercenary.

"I get paid when the job's done, nugget. Now get outta here."

Dorean hesitated, then nodded and walked away. Kagain's eyes followed him out of the room, and he remained standing at the table long after they were gone.

..

* * *

The first impression Imoen had upon entering Feldepost's shop was that it bore an uncanny resemblance to Winthrop's; it was even located down a corridor from the inn's bar. She hesitated in the doorway at the thought of her father. Dorean looked at her, then gently took her by the elbow and led her in.

"Come in, come in, don't be shy," said Feldepost, giving what he clearly hoped was a welcoming and friendly smile. Khalid, Jaheira and Montaron followed behind Dorean and Imoen. "And, ah," he added, turning to Khalid. "Please allow me to apologize for last night."

Khalid blinked at the coins in the man's hands. It took Imoen two seconds to count all the money and realize that it was the same amount as what Khalid used to secure them a room the previous night. She glanced at Khalid who was still blinking rapidly at the money, then stepped between him and Feldepost.

"No need to apologize, Mister Feldepost," she said merrily. "We're all friends here."

Rather than reassure him, her words only seemed to make him more uncertain. "Ah, you're too kind, Miss Imoen, too kind."

Dorean raised his eyebrow, then turned away to look at the items on display.

"Oh! Where are my manners?" said Feldepost, hurrying behind the counter. Dorean briefly considered and then decided to test his theory.

"There are a lot of customers out there, Mister Feldepost. Surely you could have someone else mind the shop instead."

"Oh, no, no, it's my pleasure to serve you all," Feldepost replied, waving his hands in front of him. "Personal touch and all that. Unless, you would _like_ me to have someone else...?"

Dorean smiled at him. "No, it's quite alright. Thank you."

"You're welcome," the innkeeper said immediately. "Please, take your time. Anything in particular you'd like?"

"Information relating to the town," replied Dorean. "The kind that is worth paying for."

Feldepost blinked, then smiled and nodded. He bent down and rummaged behind the counter for several seconds before coming up with a small wooden chest. Flipping the lid open, he then placed several rolled-up scrolls on the counter. Her curiosity piqued, Imoen stopped admiring an amulet in a glass case and went over to the counter. Khalid and Jaheira followed her while Montaron stayed in the back finishing his avocado.

"Nothing in here that ain't worth selling, I guarantee," Feldepost declared, placing his hands on his hips. "Now, ordinarily I'd charge six gold per each, but for a friend of a friend, I'll give you a two-gold discount. "

Despite not visibly reacting to this, Imoen could tell that Dorean did not believe Feldepost in the slightest. Nevertheless, he reached into his coin pouch, placed four coins on the counter, then selected one of the scrolls at random and immediately opened it.

"Thank you for your business," said Feldepost, quickly scooping up the money. Dorean nodded distractedly, his attention focused on the scroll. The innkeeper hesitated, then looked around at the others. "Is there anything else I could help you with?"

"You have quite the selection," said Jaheira, her eyes on a glass cabinet containing an array of weapons.

"And you have a good eye, miss," said Feldepost, still wearing his obvious salesman's smile.

"May I ask how you came by these?" said Jaheira. Feldepost hesitated.

"Well, all sorts of ways," he answered, reaching up to rub the back of his head. "I have folks working for me who'd trade 'em for coin. And there's travelling merchants, of course, most of 'em coming from up north in Baldur's Gate or Waterdeep, or from Amn in the south."

"Hm. And do these merchants also stay at your inn?"

"Of...of course, miss. Best place in Beregost, I guarantee. You won't find a better meal or more comfortable bed in all the towns." He paused, then leaned forward slightly. "And between you an' me, you can't trust the other inns. Especially the Burning Wizard. They don't even provide their own meals for their guests!"

Jaheira frowned, but at that moment, Dorean returned to the counter, rolling up the scroll and tucking it into his shirt. Seeing this, Feldepost moved back behind the counter. "I hope you were satisfied with the information, sir?"

"I am," replied Dorean. "So, how much for the rest?"

Feldepost blinked. "Err, do you mean these?" He pointed to the remaining scrolls on the counter.

"Yes," said Dorean. "And those," he added, pointing at the chest. "How much for all of it?"

Everyone looked at him.

"Urm..." said Feldepost. "Just...give me a moment."

As the innkeeper began removing and counting the scrolls, Imoen frowned at her roommate.

 _What are you up to?_ she silently asked.

Dorean avoided her eyes, keeping his gaze on Feldepost.

..

* * *

Firebead glanced towards the window as the sunset rays filtered through it, bathing the living room in a slightly reddish glow. Then, satisfied that he had everything he needed, he finished checking the contents of his rucksack and stood up, looking around his home. His eyes lingered on the wooden chest whose contents he had given to the Candlekeep roommates, and he stared at it for almost a minute before taking a deep breath and shouldering his rucksack.

He was halfway across the room and reaching towards the doorknob when the 'ping' from an abjuration alarm sounded in his mind and he instantly spun around, his melancholic expression swiftly changing to grim alertness. He remained very still, eyes searching and scanning, before a 'thud' from above drew them to the ceiling.

The scholar hesitated at the doorway, considering his options. Then he straightened himself, his gaze pointed grimly upwards as he began casting a few protection spells over himself. He then slowly crept towards and up the stairs, keeping his back to the wall. The wooden boards seemed to creak loudly with every step despite him keeping close to the wall, and almost four minutes had passed by the time he reached the bedroom door.

Drawing his dagger, Firebead slowly turned the knob, braced himself, then brought his foot up and kicked it open. After several seconds, he slowly peered around the doorway.

A man dressed in green robes was sitting on the end of his bed. His posture was slumped, arms resting on his thighs, and he was facing the opposite wall, apparently displaying no reaction to Firebead's appearance. Long, dark hair fell to his shoulders, obscuring his face.

Firebead hesitated, then stepped boldly into the room, his dagger held out and his other hand ready to launch a spell. When the intruder did not so much as move, the scholar hesitated, unsure of whether to speak to or incapacitate him.

He had finally chose the latter and had his hand raised when the stranger spoke.

"...wrong."

Firebead hesitated, his hand hovering in the air.

"Wrong," the intruder said again, louder this time. "Wrong. All of it. All wrong." His hands began to tremble, and the sound of rustling paper helped Firebead spot the open scrolls clutched in his hands.

"It is _all wrong!_ " he suddenly shouted, standing up from the bed and hurling the scrolls to the floor. Barely stopping himself from hurling a spell, Firebead watched as the intruder stamped repeatedly on the papers, grinding his foot into them.

The man then stood still for a few seconds, breathing heavily, before looking up at Firebead.

"Who are you?" he asked, his bright green eyes staring unblinkingly at the old man's face. Firebead blinked repeatedly, his dagger and free hand wavering slightly.

"This is my house," he finally said. The stranger frowned, looked around the bedroom, then back at him. They stared at each other for a moment.

"Your notes," said the intruder. Firebead's eyes flicked to the crumpled scrolls on the floor, then back to the man's face. "Why?"

"...why what?" he found himself asking.

"Why not take them? Why leave them here?"

Firebead hesitated, his dagger and spell-hand lowering slightly from the strain of holding them up. He blinked repeatedly.

"...why do you care? And who are you?"

The stranger stared at him for a full five seconds. He then lifted his head slightly, his expression now contemptuous.

"Useless. Pointless. Worthless."

He turned away, went over to and opened the window, then hesitated with one foot on the sill.

"Sarevok Anchev."

"What?"

He leaped out. Firebead blinked, then crossed the room at a run and looked out the window into the semi-crowded street.

The man was nowhere to be seen.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Kicking off her boots and climbing onto the edge of the king-sized bed, Imoen turned around and fell backwards onto the covers, sighing contentedly as her body sank into the silk sheets.

"This is the best bed I've ever been in," she announced. "Marcus is soooo nice to give us this room!"

"Yeah, he's awfully generous," Dorean replied, looking around surreptitiously for spy-holes and hidden doors. On the other side of the suite, Jaheira watched the duo as she helped Khalid out of his armour.

"I feel bad about the broken lock from the old one," said Imoen. "You think we should have insisted on paying for it?"

"He said it wasn't a problem," said Dorean, climbing onto and sitting on the bed with his feet hanging off the side, placing his back to her. "Probably happy enough after I bought his entire stock of information."

Imoen paused, then turned her head to look at him.

"You were reading them awfully quickly," she said quietly, then blinked as an unexpected wave of fatigue came over her. "And you..." she yawned. "You barely touched your d-d-dinner..."

"I wasn't hungry," Dorean replied softly. "You should get some rest. We've got a busy day tomorrow."

"Y-ye...yeah," Imoen mumbled sleepily, her eye-lids feeling heavier by the second. "Good...good idea..."

A minute later, her snores began to permeate the suite.

 _From the dosage I gave her, she shouldn't wake until around dawn._

Dorean paused, then placed one of the pillows under her head. He looked up to see Jaheira now standing in the centre of the room, her eyes locked on his.

"Care to explain what you were doing?"

Dorean paused to glance at Khalid, then slowly slid off the bed. "Don't want her to know I'm going out tonight."

"This is abominably foolish," said Jaheira, her cyan eyes narrowing as she placed her hands on her hips.

"J-Jaheira..." said Khalid. Jaheira raised her hand to silence him, not looking away from Dorean.

"You want to risk being caught by the Flaming Fist or town militia for the sake of adding to your coin purse?" she said, her tone mercilessly severe. "Need I remind you that you are currently a wanted man with a reward for your capture or death?"

Dorean held her gaze. "I'm aware. That's why I want I do this."

Jaheira blinked twice, then frowned at him and looked to her husband for support. Khalid hesitated, his eyes moving back and forth between her and Dorean.

"Imoen and I have never been in anything like this before," Dorean said softly. "Her especially." He turned to look at Imoen so that they could not see his face. "And I've seen what the bandits have done to that caravan," he added, deliberately lowering his voice to a solemn hush. He waited a moment, then fixed a determined expression on his face before turning back to Jaheira. "I'll be back before dawn. And if not, I'll be at the temple."

Jaheira stared at him silently, her mouth set in a hard line. Dorean maintained his gaze, refusing to look away from her.

"Dorean..." said Khalid, placing a hand at Jaheira's elbow as he moved past her towards him. "You should p-p-probably get some sleep. It'll be a b-busy day tomorrow, and you've been h-h-hurt."

"I am fine, Khalid," Dorean replied, giving him a warm and even slightly impish smile. "I'm a dwarf." His smile faded, and he looked at Imoen again before turning back to them. "I understand the risks, Jaheira," he said, his voice clear and firm. "And I am prepared to take them."

He stood in front of them, back straight and chin lifted as he looked up at the two half-elves.

After a moment, Jaheira breathed heavily through her nose and then turned away, walking over to her bed and removing her armour. Khalid watched her for a moment before turning to Dorean.

"Are you sure about this, Dorean?"

"I'm sure."

Khalid paused, then nodded.

"Would you like us to come with you?"

Dorean blinked and hesitated, but only for a second. "Thank you, but no. It's better if I do this alone." He hesitated again, though deliberately this time, and looked towards the door. "And...I'd prefer if you stay and watch over Imoen."

Khalid slowly looked towards the door as well. He lifted his head slightly and looked back to Dorean, understanding dawning on his face, then nodded again, more firmly this time.

"Be careful out there," he said softly.

"I will. And thank you."

The dwarf and Calishite exchanged a nod and smile. Dorean then moved to the foot of Imoen's bed, gathered his belongings, and headed straight for the door, feeling Jaheira's eyes on him.

After closing it behind him, Dorean hesitated before heading down the corridor. He had gotten six paces before Montaron's voice drifted down to him from the rafters.

"Keep ye hood down. Only shifty folk hide their faces at night."

Dorean stopped, turning his head slightly but not looking behind him. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

..

* * *

Stepping through the front entrance of the inn, Dorean stopped at the gateway as a group of town militia appeared off to his right. Casually leaning against the fence, he removed a smoking pipe from his pack and placed it to his lips, attempting to light it as they passed by him. After a few minutes, he slowly lifted his head to watch them disappear around a corner.

Then, in case anyone was watching, he continued the act, lighting the pipe with a match and taking the tobacco into his lungs. Grimacing, he resisted the urge to hack as he exhaled, forcing himself to exude quiet enjoyment.

He remained that way for a moment, leaning against the fence with the pipe in the corner of his mouth. Despite not making eye contact with them, he could still feel the suspicion and unfriendliness radiating from the militia's face.

 _Jaheira's right. Maybe I should just go back inside._ _Besides...do I really want to leave Imoen alone with them?_

He paused, glancing over his shoulder at the windows on the upper floors of the inn.

 _...no. No, it's better this way. In the long run, at least. If I stay with her all the time, they'll realize sooner or later that I do not trust them around her. Jaheira certainly would. Also,_ he thought, his expression turning grim. _If they_ _ **are**_ _going to hurt her the instant we're separated, there won't be much I could do about it._

Dorean nodded silently to himself, then extinguished the pipe and returned it to his pack.

 _Nine hours before dawn. If I'm doing this, I may as well get going._

Resolved in his decision, he walked away from the inn, forcing himself not to look back.

..

* * *

Moving carefully to the side of the window, Dorean tilted his head, carefully scanning the doorways and windows of the nearby buildings as well as the alley below.

Then, semi-satisfied that no one was watching, he nimbly exited through the window and clambered down the wall, landing lightly on his feet. He then moved into the shadow of the building he had just left, listening out for any sound.

 _...nothing. Not even a cat._

Dorean waited nevertheless, counting silently to a hundred and twenty as his thoughts drifted to the residence he had just burgled.

 _No amulet. Either Feldepost's information is unreliable, or Colquetle keeps it elsewhere._

Reaching his silent count, he scanned his surroundings one more time before exiting the alley.

The streets were significantly quieter now, even more so than on the night he first arrived in Beregost. He breathed slowly and easily, relaxing his body and effecting a calm yet brisk pace of a man not in a hurry yet eager to get home.

His senses heightened, Dorean heard and smelled the patrol of town militia long before he saw them. By the time they had turned the corner, he was already in the shadows provided by the houses, away from the glare of their torches, and passed by them unnoticed. The dwarf maintained his casual pace in case anyone was watching him, and took care to glance at every reflective surface as he moved through the streets. A kneeling beggar gave a start at the little dwarf appearing silently out of nowhere, forgetting to bow her head or voice gratitude when he dropped a single gold coin into the bowl in front of her.

 _Been five hours now and I've only hit six houses. All this trekking around..._

He paused in mid-thought.

 _...no. Stay on it. Don't leave a pattern for an investigator. If I don't make enough, I don't make enough._

His mind drifted to the raided caravan and the guards and travellers strewn around it, being looted and executed by the bandits.

 _Maybe I should risk Colquetle's jewellery shop after all. The potential take alone would-_

He saw it in the window, reflected by the moonlight; a flash of movement, for but a half-second.

Someone behind him was trying not to be seen.

His relaxed expression turned blank. Then, maintaining his easy-going pace, Dorean moved to the end of the street. He turned the corner, then strode as quickly as his short legs would allow into an alley. Glancing behind him, Dorean then swiftly scaled the three-storey building, grasping at hand-holds and silently cursing his height, and reached the roof within twenty seconds. The dwarf crawled onto the rooftop, keeping his head and body low so as not to silhouette himself against the stars, then turned around on his stomach to face the alley. He went very still, breathing slow and deep through his nose, and waited.

Five minutes went by, then ten, then fifteen. He maintained his posture, occasionally moving only his head to check his blind-spots, scanning every visible rooftop and window. On the street behind him, a group of patrolling militia went by, their footfalls, murmurs, yawns, the rattle of their weapons and the crackling of their torches loud in his ears. Dorean forced his heightened hearing to block them out, seeking other, more audible sounds instead. Nothing.

An hour went by. Still he waited, until dawn if need be.

Then a short, thin figure appeared in the entrance to the alleyway, carefully peeking one eye around the corner.

 _Half-elf. Female. Bow and arrow-quiver. Knife at left hip, possibly right-handed. No visible armour, but may be wearing under her clothes._

Dorean watched as she slowly moved down the alley, clearly attempting to appear casual at first, then breaking all pretence and hunching forward, her head swivelling slowly from left to right.

When she was a few paces from the spot directly below him, Dorean did not hesitate.

All one hundred and seventy-five combined pounds of his body and equipment dropped like a stone, landing feet-first onto her shoulders. The back of her head struck the ground as he landed on top of her, and his left fist jabbed short, sharp and hard into her chin.

Dorean stood up and off of her, running backwards and kneeling behind a pair of rain barrels. He reloaded the crossbow without looking at it, his eyes rapidly scanning the alley, doors, windows and rooftops.

Nearly ten minutes passed before he stood up and went over to the woman. Keeping the crossbow in one hand and his head on a swivel, he rolled her over with a nudge of his boot. It took less than a minute for him to remove her weapons, slide them across the ground away from her, and search her belongings.

 _Nothing. No armour, papers, notice, or money. Just her weapons._

His expression turned grim as he glanced down at her face partially obscured by her shoulder-length hair, whose colour he was unable to discern due to his infravision. He was never good at reading half-elves, but he guessed that she was quite young, perhaps no more than several years past teenhood. Her features were fair, atypical for one of her race, and he noted her freckled cheeks and dimpled chin.

 _Don't recognize her. Did she follow me from the inn?_

He hesitated, made one last check of his surroundings, then took a bottle from his pack, removed the stopper one-handed, and placed it close to her nose.

He backed away several paces towards the rain barrels when she began to stir, replacing the stopper and returning the bottle to his pack.

The woman awoke with a groan, slowly sitting up and wincing as she touched the back of her head. Her eyes met Dorean's and she froze, her breath caught in her throat at the sight of the crossbow aimed at her heart.

"P...please..." she said, lifting her hands in front of her. "I...I didn't do anything."

"It's okay," said Dorean, raising his right hand while nonetheless keeping his trigger-hand on the crossbow. "It's alright. I'm not going to hurt you. What's your name?"

She hesitated, then slowly lowered her hands to her lap. "Y...Yllrila."

Dorean nodded, keeping his expression pleasant albeit unsmiling. "Why were you following me, Yllrila?"

Her breathing intensified, and she turned her head slightly, glancing at her bow and knife lying off to the side about ten paces away.

"It's okay, Yllrila," Dorean said slowly, keeping his voice gentle and his eyes on her face. "I'm not angry at you. I just want to know why you're following me."

Her breathing noticeably relaxed, albeit remaining heavy and slightly rapid. "I...I was told to. By Zhurlong."

Dorean blinked, forcing himself not to narrow his eyes. "Who is Zhurlong?"

"He's this halfling what who lives here," she said quickly, the words tumbling out of her. "Says someone looks like you might be looking to fatten your purse. Says if I..." she trailed off, her eyes moving to the crossbow. Dorean lowered the weapon slightly.

"It's alright, Yllrila," he coaxed. "Go on."

"He...Zhurlong says if I...if I f-follow you, I might nick me a good purse. Just nick!" She added, her knees bunching up slightly. "He made me pay him to tell me where you're staying, and I...I paid him. I followed you from Feldepost's, I'm sorry I won't do it again, I-"

"Yllrila, it's okay. It's not your fault. Do you know where I can find Zhurlong?"

She hesitated, then shook her head. "Dunno. I mean, I know, but...he's at the Burning Wizard sometimes. Don't know where he lives. Nobody knows."

Dorean paused, looking into her eyes. Her jaw trembled and she raised her hands again.

"It's true, sir, I ain't lying. I don't know where he lives, I don't..."

"It's alright, Yllrila," he said, his voice and expression gentle. "I believe you."

Her shoulders sagged, and she lowered her hands again. "Oh. Thank you, sir. Th-"

Dorean fired. The bolt struck her chest, and she fell backwards.

He reloaded and waited, his face impassive, scanning his surroundings as Yllrila gasped inaudibly.

After counting to thirty, he walked over to her, kneeled down and placed two gloved fingers to her neck.

Satisfied, Dorean retrieved her weapons, replaced her knife in its sheath, carefully worked the sling of the quiver back onto her shoulder, then nocked an arrow and fired it into the wall behind where he had been standing earlier.

He placed the bow on the ground beside her left hand, then turned away and left the alley, moving once again at a relaxed, brisk pace.

..

* * *

Hidden in the shadow of its overhang, Dorean watched from within the empty market stall as yet another patrol of tired-looking militia went by, clearly looking forward to the end of their night-shift.

 _More of them in this part of town._ He turned his gaze to the manor across the street, scanning its many windows. _Obvious why._

He hesitated for a long moment, then silently berated himself.

 _You've been watching the place for a half-hour and nothing's moved in it since. You've got less than three hours 'til dawn._

He took a long, deep breath through his nose, held it, then exhaled audibly, his beard fluttering. Nodding to himself, Dorean checked his equipment, made one last sweep of his surroundings and then exited the stall.

He moved westward down the street, passing other market stalls, most of them empty save the occasional beggar or drunk. None of them noticed him pass.

He then turned northward into the trees near the outer perimeter of the estate, paused to slip his hood up and over his head, then headed east.

The wooden fence proved to be of little obstacle to him. He scaled it effortlessly, dropping lightly on the other side before moving behind an empty wagon, scanning carefully for any guards or dogs. He then crossed the grounds at a jog and reached the building within minutes.

Moving quickly and quietly, Dorean circled around the building via its north end, slowing as he passed the windmill and reached the eastern side of the manor. The side-entrance was locked, but it succumbed to his lockpick within a few minutes.

As soon as he stepped into the manor, Dorean's senses became heightened to full alertness; every sound and smell dramatically enhanced.

There were no candles or torches in the corridor, but darkness was of no hindrance to a dwarf. He moved easily, almost casually, through it and into the servants' quarters, passing between the four occupied beds with nary a sound, then on through the kitchens and into an impressive hallway furnished with a few long tables and comfy-looking chairs. A few portraits of finely-dressed humans hung on the two walls of the entranceway, as though to greet any visitors.

Two men were slumped in chairs in the centre of the hall, both as sound asleep as the servants. From the swords leaning against their chairs, Dorean deduced them to be Carl and Jurgen, hired bodyguards to the manor's owner.

He watched them for a minute and then scanned the area, noting in particular the pools of light provided by several candlesticks hanging from the walls as well as any potential hiding places. He then moved to the front door with lockpick in hand, picked it within minutes, then headed for the western end of the house. He found the stairway and climbed it, surprised at the progress he had made in such little time.

 _This place is a joke compared to Candlekeep. Still, no need to get careless._

It was not long before he found the master bedroom. Placing his ear to the door, Dorean waited to confirm that there were two sets of snores coming from within. Only then did he check the knob. He frowned upon finding it unlocked, and it was over five minutes before he was satisfied that there were no traps, alarms or wards attached to the door. Breathing deeply, he grasped and turned the knob, opening the door an inch, and peeked inside.

Gerard Travenhurst and his wife were sleeping in a large, four-poster bed. Aside from the movements of their faces and the rise and fall of their chests, nothing else stirred in the room. Dorean scanned it nevertheless, then carefully eased the door open barely enough to fit himself through.

 _There it is, just like Feldepost's info said; a key around his neck._

He scanned the floor for any creaking floorboards or 'crisps', then creeped past the bed to the far wall where a beautiful painting of a city-port hung in the centre.

 _Athkatla. Hm. He's Amnian-born, after all._

Keeping one eye on the slumbering couple, he examined the painting carefully without removing it, then stretched his arm upwards to lift the bottom corner.

 _There it is; the safe._

Gently placing the painting back against the wall, he quietly retraced his steps across the room, keeping one eye on the couple, then stopped at the door, watching them.

The key glinted in the faint light afforded by the single lit candlestick on a nearby dressing table.

 _Metal chain. No way I can cut it without waking him. Not slipping it off of him either. That only works in the story-books._

He looked at the painting, then at Gerard.

 _Kagain said that the caravan will be leaving at dawn. But there may be a delay._

 _Every second could be precious._

Dorean glanced down at the Wand of Sleep hidden in his shirt, then at the Wand of Paralyzation tucked into his belt.

He looked up at the painting, then at the key again, and his calm, neutral expression became emotionless.

..

* * *

It was nearly an hour before Dorean exited the manor the same way he had entered, through the servant's entrance on the eastern side. As usual, he checked his surroundings carefully, watching and listening for any movement or sound. After a few minutes, he nodded silently to himself, satisfied that there was no one about, and headed south away from the manor, lowering his hood as he reentered the town.

For a moment, nothing stirred in the area, save for the faint rustling of the trees around the building.

Then Xzar emerged from behind a pile of stacked crates, only a few paces to the left of the servant's entrance.

He moved to the door, lingering to look in the direction that Dorean had disappeared, then gently pushed it open and stepped inside. He strode down the corridor, his shoes padding quietly on the floorboards.

The servant's quarters was now completely silent. The three servants and the cook lay in their beds, their chests all bloodstained.

Xzar paused in the doorway, his head turning very slowly from left to right, gazing at the bodies. He then calmly looked up and crossed the room, through the kitchens and into the hallway, stopping and tilting his head at a sight to his left.

Carl lay on his stomach a few paces from the front door, facing away from it. Jurgen was slumped against the wall next to him. Both have kitchen knives in them; one in Carl's back and the other in Jurgen's stomach.

Xzar's brow furrowed, and he looked over his shoulder in the direction of the kitchens before moving through the rest of the manor.

He climbed the stairs to the second floor, walked down the corridor to the Master Bedroom, and leaned sideways to peer through the open door at Gerard Travenhurst and his wife. Like the servants, both were lying on their bed, and both had been stabbed in the chest.

Xzar then calmly proceeded to the next room, its door now also open. He took a casual glance at the body of the Travenhurst' teenage son lying on the bed, then moved on to the next room.

He stopped in front of the entrance, blinking several times at the closed door, and looked towards the open doors of the other two bedrooms. Xzar then grasped the knob and turned it, gently pushing the door open.

Like her parents and brother, the little girl in the room was lying on her bed. Her eyes were closed, and she appeared to be sleeping peacefully.

The covers over her chest were stained red.

Xzar stood quietly in the doorway, his face unreadable. He lowered his head, his gaze drifting to the floor, and began to hum a soft, quiet tune.

..

* * *

 _Opening the door to his study, Tethtoril stepped inside and held it open for Gorion. They both crossed the room, sitting down opposite each other at the desk._

 _"Would you like something to drink?" Tethtoril asked._

 _Gorion looked at him stonily. Tethtoril hesitated, then nodded to him and placed his elbows on the desk, resting his chin on his hands. Nearly a minute passed before he spoke._

 _"The day after you left, one of the Watchers asked him to fetch something from the barracks. He was found there later, his face and arms covered in cats, and three of the mouser cats with him." He looked up at Gorion's face. "They were all torn apart, bare-handed."_

 _Gorion blinked, but otherwise did not react. Tethtoril sighed._

 _"The trainer demanded punishment," he went on. "Ulraunt sentenced him to a cell for five days. I...visited him, everyday. Just to talk to him."_

 _Gorion did not so much as budge. Tethtoril faltered slightly before speaking again._

 _"I asked him why he did it, to give his own account of what happened. But he said nothing to me, or to anyone. He just...clammed up."_

 _Gorion finally moved, looking off to the side. Tethtoril lifted his chin slightly, then yet it fall back to his hands with another sigh._

 _"It happened on the fourth day. I was sitting with him, watching him eat. He suddenly clutched at his chest and fell over. I tried to examine him, removed his shirt, and...I saw the scars."_

 _Gorion's gaze lowered to the floor. Tethtoril hesitated again, this time for almost a minute._

 _"He had a dagger on him. Made of bone."_

 _The First Reader reached up and pulled down the collar of his robe, revealing the scar across his throat. Gorion's eyes darkened. He did not move or speak. Tethtoril readjusted his collar, sighing again._

 _"Ulraunt was furious. Called him a danger, and had him put in the maximum security cell with the closed door. Said he will not be released until you returned. I would have stopped him, but I was unconscious." He hesitated, drumming his fingers on the desk. "Ulraunt ordered the healers to keep me that way. He did not like that I was spending time with him."_

 _Tethtoril reached up and rubbed his forehead, sighing yet again._

 _"You sure you don't want something to drink?" He waited only a few seconds before reaching into his desk, removing a bottle and two glasses. He poured into both and then immediately downed his, breathing loudly as he swallowed the light-pink wine._ _The glass clinked against the wooden desk when he set it down, not looking at Gorion._

 _"Most of what happened next, I learnt from the guards; he was in that dungeon for two months. Two. Months. And in all that time, he never spoke to anyone. Not to the Watchers, and certainly not to Ulraunt." Tethtoril paused, then swiftly poured and drank another glassful of wine._ _"So they got used to him barely making a sound," he said, bitterness now creeping into his voice. "What they didn't know, and what I could only guess, was that the pain he suffered on the fourth day of his imprisonment didn't stop. Probably got worse, in fact. But he never cried or screamed, and Ulraunt had forbidden anyone to even look in on him, and he kept **me** unconscious all that time..."_

 _Gorion's eyes were wider now, and he was sitting straighter. The clouded darkness in his eyes was still present, and his lips were now drawn into a thin line._

 _"He stopped taking his food, and the servant who brought him his meals by sliding them under the door convinced the Watchers to open it." Tethtoril then took a deep breath, looked at Gorion's untouched glass, and then at the wizard._

 _"He'd tried to kill himself."_

 _Gorion closed his eyes. Tethtoril went quiet, leaning back in his chair. For a long moment, they both sat in silence in the study, the rays of the afternoon sun shining through the two windows._

 _"Ulraunt had him brought to the clinic at once. I awoke then; probably because they forgot to keep me under. And I gave Ulraunt the hiding of his damn life for what he did."_

 _Gorion's expression told Tethtoril that he intended to do worse to the Keeper of the Tomes._

 _"Ulraunt isn't wicked or spiteful, Gorion. He's just..."_

 _"What happened next?"_

 _Tethtoril hesitated, glancing momentarily at his wine bottle._

 _"Dorean...was unconscious for two weeks. When he woke up, he attacked one of the healers." He lowered his head. "I don't know the details; he hasn't said anything, and she's still being treated. The priest asked that he be confined to your room. Ulraunt didn't try to fight him." Tethtoril took a deep breath. "He did insist, however, that Dorean be kept asleep until you returned. That was two days ago."_

 _A long moment passed in silence. Gorion slowly took his glass, gave a small sip, then placed it back on the desk._

 _"How are you feeling?" he asked softly._

 _Tethtoril gave a small smile. "I've had worse. I'm more upset that Ulraunt kept me unconscious." He paused. "I tried to contact you. I couldn't."_

 _Gorion looked away. "I was...preoccupied." His eye-lids lowered. "I'm sorry."_

 _Tethtoril did not answer. Gorion sighed this time, the sound of his breath echoing throughout the study._

 _"If you wish it, we will leave."_

 _Tethtoril blinked quietly, then refilled his glass again._ _"Ulraunt wants you gone."_

 _"And you?" Gorion asked, looking at the First Reader. Tethtoril lowered his gaze to his glass, staring into the wine._

 _"...I'm not the only one who was hurt." He paused again, then looked up at Gorion._ _"It isn't solely because he is his child, is it?" he asked quietly._

 _Gorion looked away, and Tethtoril blinked at what he saw. The man's face appeared haunted. Haunted and **lost** ; it was something Tethtoril had never seen from him before, and he briefly became very still, the drink in his hand forgotten._

 _His gaze drifted inward, and he recalled the words of a visitor from several months back._

 _"...you're the only one he speaks to," Tethtoril said slowly._

 _Gorion looked up at him. Tethtoril set his glass down._

 _"You've given much thought to what you have to do for him. But maybe what you ought to do is to ask him what **he** wants."_

 _Gorion paused, then picked up his own glass. He lowered his head, staring into it, then closed his eyes._

 _"Thank you, Tethtoril."_


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Xzar ceased his humming, having reached the final line of the ballad. He remained standing in the doorway with his eyes closed.

Inhaling deeply through his nose and filling his lungs with air, Xzar then sang softly and slowly, repeating the first verse of the Harper ballad.

"Don't look back, just draw your blade,

Down dark track, the kill is made."

He opened his eyes with a smile, gazing at the little girl.

Then he blinked, and the smile faded. He blinked again.

He went over to the side of the bed, his head and his eyes moving rapidly back and forth over the body as his breathing became louder and erratic.

He reached out, hesitated, then grabbed and swept aside the covers.

There was no mistaking the stains on her blouse, nor the wound directly over her heart. Nevertheless, Xzar pressed his fingers to her neck, then his ear to her mouth and her chest.

No tricks had been made. She was definitely dead.

 _And yet..._

Backing away from the bed, Xzar turned his head to the side, gazing off at nothing.

Then he ran out of the room and into the brother's bedroom. Then the master bedroom.

Panting, he vaunted over the balcony, landed cat-like in the hallway, then hurried over to the bodies of the two framed bodyguards.

His breathing now coming in hard gasps, he stumbled into the servants' quarters, moving to each of the four beds in turn.

When he had examined the final corpse, Xzar stood up, once more gazing off at nothing, then slowly trudged back into the hallway and sank onto one of the chairs.

"None of them," he whispered. "Not _one._ He left them all." His eyes darted and roved aimlessly, finally resting on Carl and Jurgen.

"Why?" he said aloud. "Why did you leave them?" He lowered his gaze. "...Gorion? Elminster?" He paused. "Imoen?"

Her face appeared in his mind, tilted slightly to the side, and her expression innocently inquisitive.

Shuddering violently, Xzar clasped his arms about himself, rocking back and forth on the chair as his breathing intensified.

 _Nothing about her makes_ _ **any**_ _sense._

His right hand rose to his mouth, nibbling at his fingernails, while his left hand went to his hair, yanking and tearing at the long, messy strands.

Not Sarevok. No. The boy has unlocked the power within him, though Bhaal, whatever his reasons, has chosen not to speak to him.

But Imoen...

She has no dreams of him, nor any impulse to carry out his work, not even in the _slightest_. There is no trace of his power or his influence _anywhere_ in her, yet he could _see_ it, could see that she is **_one of his_...**

The image of her smiled, warm and grateful and _relieved_ ; the same smile she had given him seconds before wrapping her arms around him.

A scream reverberated throughout the manor, piercing and hysterical, and it took Xzar a few seconds to realize that it had been his own.

He stared at his right hand, watching the blood trickling down his fingers and staining the cuff of his robe.

His hand began to tremble. Then his arm, and his head.

He abruptly realized that he had risen off the chair and was now moving towards the stairway.

"No," he whispered.

His feet moved firmly and steadily, carrying him up the stairs.

"No...no, please..."

He moved down the corridor, past the bedrooms of the parents and the son.

"Don't do this," he pleaded. "Don't."

He stood before the girl again, trembling from head to toe.

"This is _his_ work, this is his _design!_ Even if he didn't...I, I c-cannot do this, please, please don't make me-"

Xzar suddenly lurched forward with a strangled cry, falling on top of the girl. For a full minute he writhed on top of her, convulsing violently, eyes wide and mouth open in a silent scream.

Then he went still, his right cheek pressing against her chest. Tears ran silently down his face and into her bloodstained blouse.

"No, master," he whispered. "No."

He closed his eyes, then slowly lifted himself off the bed. His left hand moved to his cheek, gently wiping the blood from his face.

"Yes, master."

He opened his eyes, looking down at the medallion that had slipped and fallen from his robes onto the girl's body.

The jawless skull gazed back at him, the sheen of its whiteness accentuated in the dim candle-light by the purple sun behind it.

Closing his eyes again, Xzar drew a knife from his belt and leaned over the body. With his free hand, he deftly tore the blouse, widened the tear and swept the clothing aside.

His eyes fluttered open as he made the first cut, and as the flesh parted beneath the blade to reveal what lay within, despite the guilt weighing in his mind, Xzar could not help but feel the corners of his lips lift into a smile.

..

* * *

Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, Xzar stepped out into the spring air, closing the door to the manor's side-entrance.

He lifted his gaze to the night sky and _breathed_ , feeling the rush of adrenaline, of pure, sweet, _bliss_ , after...

 _...no. Not so pure._

His lowered his head as the feeling of guilt struck him again like a thrown brick.

 _It was his. It was his, and I..._

He lifted his head, gasping lightly.

 _I must find him. I must..._

Closing his eyes, Xzar stood still for a few seconds, steadying his breathing, then opened them and headed into Beregost.

Dawn was a little over an hour away, and the town was beginning to stir from its slumber.

Eyes darting swiftly to catch the dwarf's death-scent, Xzar's brisk pace slowly increased to a jog, then turned into a full-pelt run.

He rounded a corner and nearly ran into a group of six town militia.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," said the pot-bellied leader, holding up a hand. "What's the hurry, stranger?"

"Please let me pass," Xzar breathed, panting hard. "I am in a hurry."

All of them sneered almost as if on cue, revealing near-identical sets of yellowed teeth.

"Now that ain't very nice, mister," said the leader, his left hand casually gripping the handle of the spiked club at his belt. "'specially to peace-keepin' folks like us." He leaned forward menacingly. "A bit'a gold could go a long way 'wards makin' sure nothin' _happens_ to strangers like yerself while yer in Be-"

"I don't have time for this," Xzar whispered.

The six men fell in as many seconds. Xzar barely heeded them, disappearing down the street by the time the last one had gurgled his final breath.

The lights of Feldepost's Inn finally came into view, still visible in the gradually brightening sky.

Xzar skidded to a halt at the front gate, his shoulders and chest heaving and sweat pouring down his brow.

He hesitated, then walked up the path to the front entrance. He was reaching for the door when it opened and Dorean stepped through and saw him.

Both men froze, Xzar's hand remaining stretched out in front of him. It suddenly occurred to him that he had _no idea_ why he wanted to meet with Dorean, nor what to say to him.

He stood on the threshold to the building, staring down at the dwarf and failing to find any words to speak.

"Good morning, Xzar," Dorean said suddenly, his voice light and friendly.

Xzar blinked down at the thin little dwarven death-child.

"Good to see you safe and sound," Dorean added. "I'm going to the smithy now. Didn't want to wake the others, especially Imoen. Would you like me to get you something?"

The words hit Xzar like a rampaging ox, forcing a memory to the forefront of his mind; one of an old friend, long since dead.

"...I'm sorry."

Dorean blinked, and Xzar realized that he had spoken the two words out loud.

"...it's alright, Xzar," Dorean said softly. He paused. "You have nothing to apologize for."

Xzar's jaw sagged slightly and he stepped back away from the dwarf. He felt something fall from his chin onto his robe, and realized that he was crying again.

Dorean's reaction was only to stare at him further. Then again, however, his lips were hidden by his beard. Xzar had only his eyes to gauge his emotions.

"Xzar?" He said after a moment, his voice still _painfully_ soft and kind and _concerned_. "Are you alright?"

Unable, no, _afraid_ to speak, Xzar could only nod his head.

"...okay," said Dorean. "Well, I'll likely be a while. Could you please tell the others to meet me at the temple?"

Xzar hesitated, then nodded again, inclining his head slowly.

"Thank you, Xzar. I'll see you later."

With that, Dorean moved past him and into the street without a backward glance.

Xzar watched him out of sight, then raised his sleeve to his eyes as a fresh wave of tears flowed down his face.

After a moment, he slowly lifted his head to the front door to the inn, green eyes shining with cold, bright malice.

..

* * *

Stifling a yawn, Marcus Feldepost climbed the stairs and reached the top floor of his inn, moving down the corridor towards the double doors at the end.

For a moment, his expression appeared clouded with worry. However, the innkeeper then seemed to reach a positive conclusion, and his walk turned into a bit of a swagger. He even started to whistle softly to himself.

He was a few paces from the door, with the key pointed at the doorknob, when a voice whispered to him, inches behind his ear.

"Didn't mention it, did he?"

Feldepost had no time to react. Xzar's hand clamped over the man's mouth as he simultaneously turned sideways and fell to one knee, pulling the innkeeper over it and onto the floor.

"Doesn't mean he doesn't know," Xzar added in a sing-song tone, grinning from ear to ear.

His startled breaths muffled by the palm pressed against his mouth, Feldepost's right hand flew to his waist. His eyes widened even further as it fumbled at the empty leather sheath.

"I'm keeping this, by the way," said Xzar, holding up the dagger with his free hand.

His muffled cries growing louder, Feldepost's struggling became more frantic, and with a sigh, Xzar pressed his right knee down hard into the man's stomach. He grimaced at the feel of saliva as the innkeeper coughed into his hand.

"I'm not here to rob you, Marcus. That is what you do, no? Oh, it's fine, it's fine," Xzar added as a terrified Feldepost attempted to shake his head. "I understand. Someone has to handle the thieves and cutpurses in this town. Might as well be you, yes?"

He could feel Feldepost's breath on his hand, now slower and heavier. The man's eyes stared up into Xzar's, frightened and pleading.

 _Like so many others had, just before I..._

Xzar blinked, sweeping the images aside.

"I'm not here to kill you, Marcus," he said softly. "I here to tell you," Xzar lowered his face, bringing it close to his. "Do not betray my dwarven friend again." He paused. "I mean the small one. Smaller. More polite. Younger. And with the brown beard, not the white. Understand?"

Feldepost's nodding was instant, immediate and frantic. Xzar narrowed his eyes at this. Then he smiled.

"You know, Marcus, I once delivered a similar message to somone in Zhentil Keep. She was not unlike yourself; a purveyor of various goods, some magical, most illicit. Like you, she had a habit of informing on her customers to the local thieves in order to get a cut of the hurl. Now, now," Xzar added soothingly as Feldepost frantically shook his head again. "She was warned once not to do such a thing. And she didn't. For a while, anyway. But then a year later, my...superiors, discovered that she had succumbed to temptation. A merchant under Zhentarim protection was robbed and murdered. Divested of most of his fortune, of which she received a significant portion. My superiors then decided that she must have forgotten the warning they gave her, and urgently needed to be reminded of it. So they sent me."

Feldepost was no longer moving. He stared up at Xzar's face in quiet, mounting terror.

"They instructed me very, _very_ carefully to make _absolutely certain_ that _this_ time, she would remember not to repeat her mistake."

Xzar became silent, and a smile slowly spread across his face until it was stretching from ear to ear.

"I just need to be certain, Marcus. You understand, don't you?"

Feldepost struggled little, and made no sound.

When he was done, Xzar stood up off the unconscious man, wiped his bloodied hand on the innkeeper's tunic, then sauntered off down the corridor, softly whistling the same tune that Feldepost himself was enjoying.

..

* * *

Familiar voices floated up from below as Xzar descended the stairs. Frowning, he peered over the railing and spotted a pink-clad figure leaping down the steps three at a time, followed by a half-elf deftly putting on his armour while his wife hurried after him, clumsily attempting to help with the shoulder straps.

"Imoen, w-wait! We d-don't know where Dorean could be!"

"Which is why one of you should have gone with him! Or better yet, not let him go at all!"

"He insisted, child!" Jaheira's voice said sternly. "It was his decision!"

"All the more reason not to have let him, Jaheira! I dunno if you've noticed yet, but my little brother's a bloody, buffle-headed _idiot_ sometimes! Oghma's eyes, what was he _thinking?!"_ The head of the pink one turned around. "Monty, hurry up or we're leaving ya behind!"

There was a grunt from behind the trio and the halfling's pony-tailed head appeared, following them down the staircase.

As Xzar descended the stairs towards them, a door opened on one of the floors and a nobleman started to shout at them for being awakened at such an early hour. He fell silent when Montaron turned to look at him with half-lidded, emotionless eyes, then hurriedly shut and locked the door.

With Khalid stammering and Jaheira protesting behind her, Imoen hurried down the stairs, through the common room and out of the inn, stopping at the front gate and anxiously swivelling her head from side to side, peering down the various streets. Passersby glanced at the party out of mixed suspicion and curiosity as Khalid, Jaheira and Montaron jogged up to join her.

"Imoen," said Jaheira. "I understand that you are worried for him, but running around like a headless chicken isn't going to help!"

Imoen rounded angrily on her, then stopped and stared past all of them. "Xzar!"

Khalid and Jaheira spun around while Montaron looked over his shoulder as Imoen sped past the three of them to stand in front of the wizard.

"Where have you been?! Never mind that, have you seen Dorean?!"

Xzar stared down at her with unblinking eyes.

"...yes," he heard himself answer.

"What?" said Jaheira, her voice now dangerously low.

"Where is he?!" Khalid growled, turning to face Xzar fully. Montaron did not so much as glance back at either of them.

"He was right here, not long ago," Xzar answered, staring at Imoen and ignoring the Harpers. "He said to meet him at the temple."

Jaheira's cyan eyes narrowed to slits, and she took a step forward and opened her mouth to speak.

"What are we standing here for then come on let's go!" Imoen said rapidly.

She then grabbed Xzar's wrist.

Shocked and bewildered, he could only stumble after her, unable to resist or speak.

Khalid and Jaheira spared a moment to stare at Imoen pulling Xzar down the street and then exchange looks with one another before hurrying after them.

Frowning, Montaron removed a banana from his pack, unwrapping and taking a bite out of the fruit as he followed after the quartet at a light, steady jog.

..

* * *

The noise of the bustling people grew louder the further they followed the road leading eastward out of the town towards the temple, past potato fields and sheep pens. Passersby stared at the pink-clad girl leading the party, pulling along the green-robed, wild-haired man as though he were chained to her wrist.

Jaheira's frown at Imoen's back had been deepening by the minute. Xzar had made no effort to disengage himself, and had not taken his eyes off of Imoen once since they left the inn.

She glanced over her shoulder at Montaron, suddenly remembering that she and Khalid had allowed themselves to expose their backs to the Zhent operative. The halfling had just finished his banana and tossed the peel over his shoulder to the glares of several passing townsfolk.

Kagain turned out to be easy to locate in all the hubbub. His voice reached their ears long before he came into view, standing on a pile of stacked crates and loudly addressing his fifteen assembled Dented Shield mercenaries, of which Lene was at the front on the far left, her massive scimitar angled diagonally along her broad back.

Ajantis and Witton were watching from a nearby column of eleven caravan wagons. Witton had his arms folded about himself, clearly displeased at the proximity of the peasants and mercenaries.

Before anyone could stop her, Imoen ran up to Kagain, pulling Xzar along.

"Kagain!"

He paused in mid-yell, staring down at her in flabbergasted fury. Behind Imoen and Xzar, the mercenaries hissed, exhaled and winced in anticipation.

"Have you seen Dorean?!" Imoen shouted. "He said he'd be here!"

 _"_ What the hell do ya think ya doing?! _I'm conducting a sodding briefing here!"_

"You need to leave," Lene said immediately, moving over and taking Imoen by her free arm. She then firmly guided the girl and her bewildered wizard away from the assembled men, and did not stop until they were out of sight of the gesticulating and yelling dwarf. Khalid, Jaheira and Montaron followed, the halfling lowering his head to hide his smirk.

"Wait here," said Lene, releasing Imoen and turning away.

"But..." Imoen began, falling silent as she watched the half-orc stride through the crowds back toward the assembled company.

Moving slowly to stand in front of her, the two Harpers watched Imoen looking anxiously around, exchanged glances with each other, and silently agreed to say nothing.

Xzar was still staring at Imoen. It occurred to Jaheira that she had not seen him blink once since he had appeared before them outside the inn.

Abruptly, Imoen noticed Xzar staring at her. She then looked down at the wrist she was holding, then quickly released it.

"Oh, sorry, Xzar. I forgot you're...urm..."

Xzar finally blinked. He remained silent and continued to stare at her, tilting his head slightly.

Khalid and Jaheira glanced at each other again, then turned at the sound of loud, metal boots to see Kagain stomping up to them, Lene calmly following behind him.

"Number one," he snarled, brandishing a thick, calloused finger before any of them could speak. "Ya _ever_ interrupt me like that again, I'll put my boot through ya sodding face. Number two, no, I _haven't_ seen the stinkin' nugget. Number three, if I find out he's run off, I'm gonna find the coward an' make an example'a him, I promise ya that."

Kagain wagged his finger again, opened his mouth to speak further, then stopped when Lene placed a hand on his broad shoulder. He scowled at her, then seemed to calm down a bit before turning back to the party.

"An' remember what I told ya 'bout what we discussed yesterday; not. A word. Ta _anyone."_ He glared at all of them, looking at Xzar last, before turning on his heel. After five loud stomps, he stopped and looked back.

"An' if Vai asks where he is, make up a sodding excuse."

With a snort, Kagain then resumed shoving and elbowing his way through the bustling crowds. Lene paused to incline her head at the party before following him.

"I like her," said Xzar. "She's always polite." Montaron grunted in agreement, now munching on a potato he had apparently stolen from the temple fields. Khalid glanced at both of them before turning to Imoen.

"I'm sure he's alright, Imoen," he said softly. "He may just be r-running late."

The girl ignored him and continued to scan the crowds, her gaze at naval-level as she searched for the familiar cloak-covered head of her roommate.

..

* * *

As the clouds changed from yellow-orange to reddish-pink, and the amount of activity and people busying themselves increased, Imoen became more and more uneasy. She paced back and forth in front of the party, and on a few occasions began to dart forward into the droves of people before returning to her pacing.

Xzar finally broke his eyes away from her to look at the two Harpers' increasingly hostile glares. It was obvious to him who they will be blaming if Dorean failed to arrive, and he wondered yet again if he should have followed the dwarf to the smithy.

"He's here," Montaron said abruptly, causing Imoen to jump.

"Where?!" she said, looking around and then spotting Dorean coming up the east road, side-stepping a group of gawping children. He was carrying a large sack about his own size over his shoulder, and appeared to be breathing heavily from the fluttering of his beard.

His eyes widened as Imoen hurtled towards him and he attempted to backpedal. Hindered by the sack, he could only raise his hand to ward off the smacks, swats and fists raining down on him.

"Don't - you - ever - run - off - on - me -a-gain!" she shouted in between each swing.

Imoen then stopped and glared down at him with her fists clenched at her sides. Xzar frowned and tilted his head upon seeing that Dorean appeared to be genuinely apologetic.

After a moment, with a loud huff, Imoen moved behind Dorean and placed her hands at the bottom of the sack to support it. Jaheira then stepped forward, folding her arms across her chest as the duo approached.

Setting the sack on the ground, Dorean then looked up as Imoen walked over to stand next to Jaheira and join her in frowning disapprovingly down at the dwarf.

He then quietly untied the string at the opening of the sack and opened it. It fell to the grass, revealing two tower shields, two medium shields, a bandolier of throwing knives, a quiver of crossbow bolts, and another large package conspicuously wrapped in burlap.

"Here," he said simply, stepping back from the pile and looking up at all of them. "Oh, and these too." He removed a paper bag from his pack and handed it to Imoen, who wordlessly took it and looked inside.

"Sandwiches," she said after a moment, and sniffed. "Strawberry." She looked at Dorean.

"Thought you might've missed breakfast," he said, picking up the wrapped package with a grunt and holding it out to her. "Here."

Imoen blinked, then slowly passed the sandwiches to Montaron who had moved next to her at the smell of bread.

The party watched as she removed the wrapping from the package, revealing the black-coloured studded jacket.

"I had it tested," said Dorean. "It'll stop an arrow or two, but Taerom warned me that it may not hold up against enchanted ones. Still, it's better than what you have now." He paused, then looked out at the gathering crowds of people and added, "Looks like we might be heading off soon. You should put it on now."

He then turned away, reaching into his pocket and biting into a half-eaten pear. The party stared at him and then at each other for a moment before moving to the equipment on the ground.

"Thank you," said Khalid, bowing his head as he picked up one of the tower shields. His mouth full, Dorean simply nodded in response. Jaheira frowned silently at him as she examined the other tower shield.

Pausing briefly to narrow his eyes at the dwarf, Montaron scooped up the quiver, then removed and examined one of the bolts before putting it back. He then picked up and tossed the bandolier at Xzar who caught it one-handed without taking his eyes off of the dwarf, then snatched up one of the medium shields and moved off to the side to enjoy a sandwich.

"Did you get any sleep at all?" Imoen asked, looking down at Dorean over the Shadow Armour in her arms.

"I'll be fine," he answered, not looking at her. She gazed at the side of his face for a moment before sighing loudly, putting down the armour, and removing her pink shirt to expose the studded leather underneath.

As Jaheira helped Imoen out of it and into the Shadow Armour, Xzar continued to watch Dorean. The dwarf was now facing the same direction as most of the townsfolk; towards the front steps leading to the temple where Kelddath Ormlyr was standing.

As the first rays of the sun peeked out over the horizon, Xzar's eyes widened slightly and his face slackened. He stared down unblinking at Dorean who had lowered his head and clasped his hands together.

The rest of the party stopped as well, watching quietly as the dwarf joined the townspeople of Beregost in repeating after Kelddath.

When the chorus of voices had faded, and everyone resumed going about their duties, Dorean opened his eyes, looked up at the party, and smiled before going over to help Imoen with the armour.

"You w-worship Lathander?" asked Khalid.

"I like his teachings," replied Dorean. "'There is always another morning.'"

Xzar stared down at the strange little dwarf, then turned his head upwards to the dawning sun.

He blinked upon hearing Imoen speak his name, then slowly accepted a sandwich, quietly watching her flinch and argue with Dorean as the latter tightened the belt of the Shadow Armour around her waist.

The holy symbol _burned_ against his chest, still engorged on the sacrifice he had earlier granted to Cyric.

Ignoring it, he bit into the sandwich, letting the warm taste of bread, butter and strawberry jam marinate in his mouth before swallowing.

The voice of his old friend echoed in his mind, speaking words that have long since been forgotten.

 _Survive. No matter what._

He lowered his head, his chin touching his chest and brushing against the hidden medallion, and closed his eyes.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

 _Vigilant One, watch over this caravan and all who travel in it. Guide us through these lands to safety, and-_

"I understand using a decoy carriage, but I _still_ don't see why we couldn't ride with the merchants."

Suppressing a sigh, Ajantis Ilvarstarr opened his eyes and lifted his head to look at the man seated next to him.

"You are concerned about the people with us, milord?"

"And you are not?" Bartholomew Witton retorted, tucking in his sleeves as best he could underneath the arms of his newly-acquired and thoroughly uncomfortable leather gambeson. "Look at them! Any one of them could be a spy or, or, an assassin!"

Ajantis blinked wearily at him, then obediently looked around the wagon.

It was filled nearly to its full capacity of eight people, including himself and Witton. Two men were seated directly across from them, one of whom Ajantis recognized as the minstrel Garrick. The other one, sitting across from Witton in the opposite corner, was a tall, muscular man with ruggedly handsome features who paused in the tuning of his longbow to lift an eyebrow at Witton's nervous outburst.

Next to Garrick were Khalid and Dorean, of whom the latter appeared to be asleep with his head leaning against the former's right bicep.

Finally, seated directly across from Dorean and next to the wagon's door was the halfling named Montaron, the space between him and Ajantis occupied by the former's pack. Aside from the sleeping dwarf, he was the only one who did not react to Witton's accusation, and continued to whet a thinly-bladed dagger.

Ajantis hesitated and then smiled at the three upturned faces. "Pardon me, but would any of you happen to be currently conspiring against my lord?"

Khalid, Garrick and the stranger all exchanged looks with each other.

"Not today, I'm afraid," said the stranger. "For now, I am merely a caravan guard. I might dabble in spying or assassination if it pays more, however."

This elicited a collective chuckle from Garrick and Khalid, the latter quickly collecting himself lest he wake up the slumbering dwarf leaning against him.

"I do not believe I have your name, sir," said Ajantis.

"It is Kron, my good man, but you may call me Eldoth," he replied, bowing his head and smiling. "And what of you gentlemen here?" he added, looking at Garrick and Khalid.

Introductions were passed around (excluding Montaron), and soon Ajantis' frustration at Witton's constant complaining ebbed away as he listened to Garrick's dramatic retelling of what he apparently now referred to as the Silke Dilemma; the same incident, Ajantis realized, that landed him in trouble earlier with the mercenary leader Kagain.

"...and so I pledged my sword-arm to this caravan, for no pay of course, in repentance for the crimes of my mistress," Garrick concluded. "And if in the course of this quest should I lose my life, then I hope, it would be a fitting end." He closed his eyes and lowered his head.

"Very noble of you," drawled Eldoth, breaking the silence. Garrick smiled and then frowned at him. "Well, since we are now apparently sharing our life stories, I may as well throw in mine."

Ajantis' still-soured mood at the interruption of his prayer was soon improved by Eldoth's tale of his island homeland of Ruathym. He perked up when Eldoth spoke of moving to Waterdeep as a teenager and training in New Olamn.

"I am from Waterdeep," he said without thinking. Garrick, Eldoth and Khalid blinked at him.

"Yet you wear the colours of the Amn-based Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart," Eldoth replied with a raised eyebrow. "I sense a story there."

Ajantis hesitated. "It's a long story."

"We've got time," said Garrick.

"Not as interesting as yours, I'm afraid," replied Ajantis. "What about you, Khalid?" he asked, hoping to shift the group's focus onto someone else. "Where are you from?"

Khalid blinked rapidly, and to Ajantis' surprise, his cheeks appeared to turn a slight pink.

"Urm...I...I-I am f-from C-C-Calimshan."

Eldoth's eyebrow rose again. Montaron neither stopped nor slowed his dagger-whetting, though he did raise his eyes to look at Khalid, who nervously looked away from all of them to the sleeping dwarf leaning against him.

"...what about him?" asked Garrick, gesturing to Dorean and immediately earning Ajantis' gratitude for the obviously shy half-elf.

Unfortunately, Khalid only appeared to become even more nervous at the inquiry; his head darted back and forth between Dorean and Garrick before stopping at the latter. His mouth opened and closed, struggling to find the right words to say.  
"None'a yer business," Montaron said without looking up, giving the blade of his dagger a particular loud scrap against the whetting stone. Ajantis, Garrick, Eldoth and Khalid all stared at him. Witton made a noise and leaned further into his corner.

After a moment, Garrick turned away from the unfriendly halfling and started up a new conversation about the caravan and the troubles plaguing the region.

As he, Eldoth and even Witton joined in with their thoughts and opinions and in the case of Witton complaints, Ajantis could not help but glance at the slumbering dwarf, recalling the moment hours earlier when Dorean had climbed into the wagon under the insistence of his...foster sister?...and spoke to all of the other passengers before falling asleep next to Khalid. He had been polite and courteous as always, like the few times Ajantis had previously spoken with him.

Ajantis remembered recognizing him as the same face on the bounty notice he had seen outside the Song of the Morning Temple, and wondered to himself if such an unassuming and seemingly harmless person truly could have been involved in the disappearance of a skilled swordsman like Gunnhallur Silvershield.

 _He's not like Kagain. Shorter, lighter, darker skin..._

Ajantis recalled the years of study under his perpetually strict and skinny former governess.

 _A gold dwarf, perhaps?_

Another memory came to him; one of a gold dwarven smith in Athkatla whom Keldorn had introduced him to. His mailed fingers moved to his polished steel breastplate, gently brushing over the metal, and Ajantis felt a pang of guilt upon realizing that he had never bothered to learn the man's name.

The wagon suddenly lurched to a stop, causing Witton to make an 'eep' sound and grasp the edges of his seat.

Dorean's eyes flicked open and he leaned forward with a jerk before relaxing with a loud exhale, breathing heavily. Khalid and Montaron both immediately looked at him, the latter pausing in his dagger-whetting.

"Are you okay?" Khalid asked gently. Dorean hesitated, then nodded without looking at him.

"Why have we stopped?" Witton said aloud, standing up and thumping his fist on the wall behind the driver. "I demand to know why we stopped!"

Before Ajantis could attempt to calm him yet again, the door at the rear of the wagon swung open and Imoen stuck her head inside.

"Heya, little brother. Sorry for waking ya." Her cheery mood faded slightly. "Kagain wants to see you."

Ajantis expected Dorean to grumble loudly or mutter under his breath and was surprised when the dwarf quietly shouldered his pack and followed her out.

He then blinked when Montaron, Khalid, Garrick and Eldoth all rose from their seats and began to exit the passenger wagon one-by-one.

He hesitated a moment, then, his curiosity piqued, he too left his seat and moved behind Eldoth, bending low to avoid scraping his head on the ceiling.

He heard Witton sputtering behind him and then making an inarticulate sound of frustration, and fought to hide a smile as the noble-born diplomat reluctantly followed him out.

..

* * *

Ajantis stepped outside, blinked up at the high noon sun and then looked around. He grimaced as he surveyed his surroundings and stood aside to let Witton exit the wagon.

 _Khalid was not exaggerating. There is barely any cover for miles._

Numerous faces turned towards him, their eyes narrowing upon seeing the symbol of the stylized heart on his cloak. He ignored the glares and whispers, keeping his gaze fixed on Imoen leading the group to the head of the caravan.

He exchanged polite nods with Lene as he passed, feeling her eyes and those of her fellow mercenaries on his back.

 _I've heard enough rumours about the Dented Shields to guess they do more than escort caravans._

He shook his head slightly, then brushed his dark hair out of his face, silently reminding himself that protecting Witton is his mission.

 _If there is evil in them, I can deal with it_ _ **after**_ _he is delivered to the city._

A few minutes later, they reached the leading caravan wagon, in front of which stood Kagain, Officer Vai, Jaheira, and Xzar, the last of whom gave a friendly wave and smile to Ajantis, causing Witton to shrink back behind his bodyguard.

"I said bring the nugget, not the whole bloody crew!" Kagain exclaimed to Imoen. "Ya mother ever taught ya ta follow simple instructions?"

"No she didn't, on account of being dead since I was a wee lass," she replied, neither faltering in her step nor her speech. Kagain blinked at her, nonplussed, then gave a growl and a snort before pointing at Dorean.

"You," he said, tossing an unremarkable-looking girdle into his arms. "Are gonna take this to Thog, or Bog, or whatever the hell he's called."

"I think it was Og," said Xzar.

"Did I ask ya ta talk?" Kagain growled, rounding angrily on the wizard. Ajantis frowned as he watched Xzar return the mercenary's glower with a malevolent smile, remembering the altercation in Kelddath's office.

"What if he refuses to let us pass?" Jaheira asked, causing both older dwarf and wizard to look at him.

"Then we sodding kill him," Kagain answered. "What the hells do ya think we'll do, offer him a drink?"

"Do ogres even drink the same beverages as we do?" Garrick wondered aloud.

"I once saw an ogre in a tavern in Waterdeep," said Eldoth. "Placed bets with everyone to try to drink him under the table."

"Anyone manage to?" Imoen asked.

"No," Eldoth replied with a smirk. "He put half the tavern into a stupor." He paused. "Though I suspect he cheated."

Kagain stared for a full three seconds before turning to Vai. " _This_ is what ya mustered up for me?"

"It would have helped if you chipped in on paying them," she replied. Ajantis watched as the two mercenaries exchanged glares.

"I should've stayed in Beregost and summoned a contingent from Athkatla," muttered Witton behind him. Ajantis glanced at him for a moment and then quietly turned away, deciding not to voice what an unwise idea that would have been.

Nevertheless, as he watched Khalid argue with Kagain on behalf of Dorean who was quietly examining the belt, Ajantis breathed in deeply and exhaled in a sigh.

 _The men whom I rode out of Athkatla with were ordered and disciplined. And they still fell to our attackers. Could these people succeed where they failed?_ He paused, lowering his head. _Could I?_

"Squire," he heard, and lifted his gaze to Officer Vai. "What are you doing out here with him?" She gestured to Witton. "You both need to stay in the wagon, out of sight."

Ajantis hesitated. He glanced again at Witton, then at the thin, passive dwarf nodding to Khalid, Jaheira and Kagain in turn and then moving quietly to the front of the group with Imoen close on his heels.

"I'm going with him."

Vai blinked and frowned at him. Dorean and Imoen stopped and looked at him as well.

"The sun got to ya head or something?" said Kagain.

"I said I'm going," Ajantis replied, his voice more firm and confident this time. "I have faced ogres before, Master Kagain, and not always in battle."

As Kagain and Vai looked at each other, Ajantis noticed Garrick and Eldoth raising their eyebrows at him.

"You're supposed to protect me, Ilvarstarr, not go monster-hunting!" Witton protested.

"I will neither be far away nor gone long, milord, and there should be adequate protection for you here," Ajantis calmly replied. "Unless you would prefer to accompany me?"

Witton descended once again into protesting sputters before turning on his heel and marching back towards the column. Ajantis watched him go, his feelings a conflicting mix of satisfaction and guilt as he recalled Witton's words at the Song of the Morning.

 _This journey has made him a nervous wreck._

Without another word, he marched over to Dorean, gave him a reassuring smile, and said, "Let's go and meet this ogre."

Dorean looked up at him and then at Imoen before nodding. "Thank you, Ajantis." He then turned to Kagain. "Will you be coming with us?"

Everyone looked at the older dwarf, who for some reason glanced at Montaron with narrowed eyes before adjusting his winged helmet and stepping forward.

"Of course I am. If that thing starts swinging, ya will need a _real_ dwarf ta deal with it."

Ajantis winced and prepared for a vicious exchange of insults. To his surprise, Dorean merely nodded and said "Thank you," to which Kagain gave another rude snort.

"I will remain with the caravan," said Vai, gazing coldly at the friendly dwarf. "Do not forget what I told you yesterday."

For a moment so fleeting that he could have sworn it was his imagination, Ajantis noticed the light fade from Dorean's eyes. He blinked once, and in the next half second, the empty, emotionless expression was gone, replaced by him nodding silently to Vai before addressing the entire group.

"Alright, same as before; all in a straight line with me at the front. Khalid, could you help Ajantis? He wasn't with us the last time."

As he found himself wedged between Khalid and Xzar, Ajantis could not help but blink at Dorean.

"Odd little fellow, is he?"

He turned his head to see Xzar smiling at him, then quietly faced forward again, deciding not to answer. Xzar pouted.

"It's rude not to answer a question," he said reproachfully. Ajantis glanced to his left and stiffened upon seeing Khalid glaring daggers at Xzar.

He began to wonder if he had made a mistake.

..

* * *

"Now remember," said Khalid. "Unless it's attention is elsewhere, there is little chance that we could take it by surprise. So let's just-"

He stopped speaking as the party came to a halt.

The ogre was where they had seen it last, in the shade of two coniferous trees.

The flies buzzing around its unmoving, supine form was the first sign that something was amiss.

Montaron immediately moved forward, seemingly walking casually yet making no sound. Everyone else remained where they stood, Dorean gently elbowing Imoen without looking at her when she began to speak.

The halfling returned a few minutes later, silently beckoning them to come forward, which Ajantis regretted as he drew closer.

"Ah, Clangeddin's rottin', soddin' teeth," Kagain swore, pinching his nose.

"...what happened to him?" said Imoen, her voice shaking.

"Lost his head," Montaron answered unhelpfully. Jaheira glared at him as she waved the flies off and kneeled down to examine the numerous wounds on the naked corpse.

"His finger and toenails have been cut out," she said grimly. "He was alive when it happened." She looked up at her partner. "Khalid, what do you make of this?"

Ajantis looked at the man now standing next to him. There was a slight greenish tinge to Khalid's face. However, his composure and expression were calm and collected, which was more than Ajantis could say for himself; he was surprised at his own ability to keep it together. The urge to turn away and vomit was growing stronger by the second.

"A poleaxe or a halberd," Khalid answered, pointing at one of a dozen wounds on the corpse's torso. "Not an axe."

"He was kept alive for as long as possible," Xzar said quietly. Everyone looked at him. "The torturer observed his reactions."

They all looked down at the corpse, Ajantis fighting the urge to retch.

After a moment, he noticed that Dorean appeared to be searching their surroundings; his eyes were scanning the ground around the ogre's makeshift campsite.

"Already checked, kid," said Montaron. "It ain't here. Whoever did this must've taken it with the head."

Dorean quietly lowered his gaze to the ground. Imoen placed a hand on his shoulder, keeping her face turned away from the ghastly display before them. Ajantis wanted to ask what they were speaking of, but he dared not open his mouth lest the urge to vomit become overwhelming.

"You claim to know all that is worth knowing about this region, did you not?" said Jaheira, standing up and turning to Kagain who, Ajantis realized, had been uncharacteristically quiet.

"...yeah, I did," he answered, his left hand still pinching his nose. "What about it?"

"Do you know who might have done this?"

Kagain hesitated for a moment, his eyes moving from Jaheira to Khalid, Montaron and Xzar, who for some reason was staring at Dorean and Imoen, both of whom had turned to look at Kagain.

"...someone ya don't wanna know," he eventually answered. When Jaheira did not budge, he then added, "An elf. Not like your kind of elves, he's one'a them wild elves. Arrived in Beregost about three months ago, asking about some half-ogre called Tazok." He paused. "Then he started killing. Mostly bandits, but also travellers, merchants, peddlers, an' anyone else he took a fancy to. Even killed three of my guys." He paused again. "He hates ogres. And I really mean hates 'em. Don't know what he wants with this Tazok fellow, but from this," he gestured with his free hand to the mangled body. "I'm guessing it ain't to sit down an' talk business."

Khalid and Jaheira looked at each other.

"What's his name?" asked Dorean.

"How in the hells should I know?" Kagain retorted. From the corner of his eye, Ajantis noticed Montaron and Xzar both raise their eyebrows and glance at each other.

"He killed your men and you never tried to learn his name?" said Jaheira. Kagain bristled.

"I never said I didn't-"

A war horn sounded far behind them, causing them all to look south. Cursing in dwarvish, Kagain turned and started to run, his chainmail clinking loudly in his wake.

As the rest of the group followed him, despite the sinking feeling in his bell, Ajantis felt almost grateful for being given a reason to leave the area as quickly as possible; the stench permeating from it was not only physically retching, but also carried something that he could only describe as, for lack of a better word, _evil_.

He made a quick but fervent prayer to Helm to watch over those who may be unfortunate enough to meet this elvin mass murderer.

..

* * *

There was a large cloud of dust approaching from the east. As the party raced back to the caravan, Ajantis grimaced as a line of horsemen appeared on the horizon, heading straight for the column of wagons.

 _We'll never outrun them on the plains._

"Lene!" Ajantis heard Kagain shout, and faced forward to see the half-orc running up to meet them. The dwarven leader did not stop or slow down, and Lene deftly changed course to run alongside him. "Who an' how many?"

"Fist scout counted over fifty, heading right this way!"

"I _know_ that, I can see the sodding smoke! How many horses?!"

"Twenty, maybe twenty-five!" she answered, panting. "They've got archers too!"

"Of course they do, they'd be bloody stupid not to! Line up our boys! An' the rest'a ya, find that stinkin' noble an' make sure he doesn't soddin' die!"

Sweat pouring down his forehead, Ajantis ran to the passenger wagon where he found Witton hammering on the door and demanding to be let back in. Armed with the experience of having travelled with him for the last several weeks, the squire opted for action instead of words, bodily pulling the diplomat away from the wagon and dragging him over to the rallying Dented Shield, Flaming Fist and freelance mercenaries, where Dorean's party had also gathered.

Witton's curses and threats died down as he and Ajantis gazed out across the plains at the company assembling before them.

 _Wooden lances_ , Ajantis noted, grimacing. _My shield and armour may not be enough here._

Almost simultaneously, Kagain and Vai shouted, "Shields out!"

Ajantis looked at Khalid standing next to him, and the Calishite gave a calm, reassuring smile as he and Jaheira brought up their tower shields in unison with the mercenaries, most of whom were carrying tower shields as well.

"Stay close to me, milord," Ajantis said firmly but gently to Witton.

"It's them, isn't it?" said Witton, his voice trembling. "They've come for me again. I knew they would."

Ajantis paused, then put his right arm around the thin man's shoulders, drawing him closer to his side. "Calm yourself, sir. We will get through this."

He looked on sympathetically as the man started to whimper, reminding himself that Witton's recent behaviour was a result of his growing fear and anxiety.

"You're a cowardly one, aren't you?" said Xzar. Ajantis frowned at him, then blinked as the wizard lifted a haughty chin. "I will make a far better master than this one, young man. I suggest you let him catch an arrow or three, and join me in my mission to Nashkel."

Ajantis stared at him. Then Imoen reached over and smacked Xzar on the arm, causing the latter to jump.

"Xzar," she said, pointing a threatening finger at him. "If you say that to him again, I _will_ touch you."

The madman recoiled from her, and when the bandit leader at the front of the assembled company started to address them, Ajantis actually felt relieved.

"Good day to you, travellers!" he shouted, trotting forward several steps on his horse. "My name is Deke. Not my real one, of course, but I'm sure you understand why I don't want to share it." There was a chorus of laughter from his men. "Let me assure you good folk that we intend no ill will towards you, and will allow you all to resume your journey after you have bequeathed us three wishes."

Despite the distance separating them, Ajantis could feel the smirk on the bandit leader's face. He slowly lifted his right hand to the grip of the bastard sword behind his right shoulder, drawing the weapon from its scabbard.

"First; all of the iron that you're carrying. And I mean all of it," Deke added. "Second; the nobleman from Athkatla. Dead or alive, it doesn't matter. Feel free to kill him yourselves if you like."

As another round of laughter rose from the bandits, Ajantis silently placed his sword-hand on Witton's left shoulder, keeping the blade pointed sky-ward. He felt rather than saw the diplomat's trembling body, and gave the shoulder a few firm pats in the hope of steadying him.

"Do not despair, milord," he said in a low voice. "We will beat back these brigands."

Witton did not answer, though he gave a loud sniff from beside the squire.

"Thirdly," and here Deke's tone and demeanour suddenly became more serious. "A gold dwarf, travelling with several freelance mercenaries. We want him alive and we want him unharmed."

The anxious and nervous murmuring among the caravan travellers intensified, and numerous heads began turning and looking around them, most at naval-level.

Tearing his eyes away from the assembled bandits (there definitely are more than fifty...), Ajantis looked to his right at the strange duo of dwarf and pink-clad girl.

The latter had moved closer to the former, and her left arm, whose hand was clutching her short-bow, was now firmly resting on Dorean's shoulder. Khalid had also moved past Ajantis and Witton, placing himself on Dorean's other side with sword and shield already drawn. Jaheira, however, was now standing very still and lightly gripping her quarterstaff, the only movement from her being the swaying of her hair in the breeze. Xzar too was staring straight ahead, his arms hanging loose at his sides.

It suddenly occurred to Ajantis that Montaron was nowhere to be seen, and he was about to look around for the halfling when Deke spoke up again.

"In exchange for these paltry gifts, we will allow you to go on your way. With your food, water, gold and everything else. Including your lives."

Despite the heat, Ajantis felt a chill run down his spine. He kept his gaze fixed straight ahead rather than glance at the faces of the mercenaries around him.

For a moment, the mercenaries were all silent, in contrast to the murmurs and shouts of the caravan travellers.

Then Officer Vai stepped forward, eyes cold and chin high.

"I have a counter-offer; lay down your arms and leave this land, right now, and the Flaming Fist will not have you all hunted down and hanged!"

She was answered by a cacophony of mocking laughter, though her gaze and stance did not falter.

"Your offer is most unrealistic, my good lady!" Deke shouted mirthfully. "For we have you outnumbered! Come now, do you really wish to sacrifice all of these good folk for the sake of two people and some iron?"

"'e's right!" yelled a peasant. "Are you really gonna let us all get killed just for that?!"

"Dat dwarf's a bad'un anyway, 'e killed Gun-heller! I say hand 'im over to 'em!" a middle-aged woman hollered.

"Wait, wait, what about the iron?!" a merchant piped up. "Surely we don't have to give up _all_ of it? Maybe we could-"

 _"SHUT UP!_ _ **ALL**_ _OF YA! ONE MORE WORD FROM ANY'A YA AN' I'LL COME BACK THERE AN' KILL YA MYSELF!"_

In the silence that followed, Kagain paused a moment to let his words echo across the plain. Then, adjusting his winged helmet, he stepped up beside Vai and placed his hands on his belt.

"So!" He hollered. "Dick, was it?"

The bandit leader scowled. "It's Deke!" He shouted back.

"Oh, Sorry! Pardon me! My hearing ain't so good, must be on account'a my age!"

There was a round of laughter from the Dented Shields, and even some of the Flaming Fist mercenaries smiled and chuckled.

"Alright, _Dick_ , lemme say so's I got it straight in my head! This deal ya offerin' us, it's the iron, the nobleman, an' the dwarf! That's it, right, that's all ya askin' for?"

"That is correct, yes!" Deke answered.

"Okay, okay!" said Kagain raising his hands. "An' that is _all_ ya want? Ya won't ask for anything else?"

"No, we will not!"

Kagain nodded, keeping both of his hands raised. "Okay, okay, okay! _So_ , just to make it _absolutely clear_ ; if we give ya those three things, ya will leave us alone? Ya will go away an' won't bother us again?"

"Yes!" Deke shouted back, now clearly impatient. "The iron, the noble and the dwarf! That's all we want! And we will let you all go!"

Kagain fell silent, still nodding. He then lowered his hands and looked behind him at the caravan, taking his time and casting a slow, sweeping eye over the sea of faces before facing the bandits again.

"An' ya give me your word, that if we meet these conditions, ya will honour your end of the deal?"

Deke paused, then turned his head to look at his fellow bandits. In that moment, Ajantis looked around at the party. Imoen and Khalid have drawn even closer to Dorean, Khalid on his left and Imoen on his right. Jaheira and Xzar remained unmoving, though Xzar's eyes were now closed and he appeared to be humming something softly to himself. There was still no sign of Montaron.

"You have my word, dwarf!" Deke finally answered. "Give us what we want, and we will leave the rest of you in peace, with everything else you carry!"

Kagain nodded and then stood quietly with his hands on his belt, looking over at the assembled bandits, and to Ajantis, it seemed as though every other living soul on the plains, travellers, mercenaries and bandits alike, was holding its breath.

After a long moment, Kagain turned to Officer Vai.

"That's a pretty good deal, don't ya think, Vai?"

Vai simply looked down at the dwarf, her expression unreadable. Kagain snorted.

"Well, it's a damn good deal to me! What about you, boys?" He turned to the other mercenaries. "A bit'a cargo an' two people in exchange for the lives of forty! Now THAT'S a deal! Probably the best deal I've gotten all year!"

Numerous words of agreement rose from the crowd of peasants and travellers. Ajantis saw Deke's face twist into a smile. He felt Dorean's party tense beside him, and the eyes of several mercenaries on them.

"Hey, how about this, Dick?" Kagain yelled, turning back to face the bandits. "How about ya come over here an'-"

What Kagain said next was almost immediately drowned out by a loud chorus of laughter and mocking cat-calls from his men to the bandits, though Ajantis could tell from the gesturing and body language of the dwarven leader that it was, to put it lightly, not very polite.

Despite the distance separating them, he saw Deke's face turn red. The man whirled around on his horse when some of his own men failed to hide their chuckles and smiling faces, then turned back to face Kagain.

"You will pay for this! _All of you!_ " He then looked over his shoulder and screamed, "No prisoners except the dwarves! I want them _both_ alive!"

Vai and Kagain both drew and raised their mace and axe, shouting to their men.

"To arms!"

"Time to earn our pay, boys!"

As nearly a hundred voices roared in anticipation of battle, Ajantis quietly lowered his head and closed his eyes.

 _Helm, grant me the strength to see this through. And if not, give not your mercy to my soul, but to these people._

..

* * *

As nearly twenty bandit archers marched through the line of enemy horsemen, Vai shouted to her men without turning around.  
"Team one, with me! Team two, protect the caravan! Get those people behind the wagons _now!_ "

"Freelancers, leave the front-line stuff to us!" Kagain bellowed. "Stay with the caravan!"

The bandit archers raised their bows, and Ajantis hastily drew Witton closer to him. "Get down, milord!" He ordered, forcing him into a crouch and bending down himself with his shield over the cowering diplomat.

"Shields up!" Vai and Kagain yelled together.

A volley of arrows coursed high into the air, arcing down towards them. Screams and cries echoed through the plain as they landed, and when Ajantis turned his head to look, his heart sank upon seeing that most of the casualties were among the civilians, many of whom had failed to take cover behind the wagons in time. Armed with their tower shields, none of the mercenaries appeared to have suffered a single wound.

He turned back at the shouted order of "Loose!" from the bandit army, and another hail of feathered shafts flew up towards the caravan.

More screams. Ajantis momentarily closed his eyes to shut out the memory that rushed unbidden to his mind, forcing himself to stay in the present.

 _"Come on, boys!"_ Kagain roared.

With his axe raised high and the sunlight gleaming off his helmet, the dwarf rushed headlong at the bandits. For a single second that seemed to linger agonizingly for Ajantis, none of the other mercenaries moved. Then Lene sped forward and the remaining fourteen Dented Shield mercs followed, waving their shields and weapons and screaming their battle-cries.

Ajantis suddenly felt the urge to join them; to race head-long at the bandit cavalry who have the advantage in numbers and in being on horseback.

 _Death might find me out in that field. It would be a good end._

He hesitated for a moment, then tore his eyes away from the two screaming, charging lines of men, placed a hand on the small of Witton's back, and forced him to his feet.

"This way, milord!"he yelled, pushing and guiding him back towards the caravan wagons.

The passenger wagon they were in earlier was now peppered with arrows, and there was a scrum at the rear door with a small crowd of people trying to force their way inside.

Several of them spotted Ajantis and Witton approaching, and the squire felt a chill run down his spine at their hostile glares.

"That's the noble they were talking about!" a peasant shouted, pointing at Witton who shrank back closer to Ajantis.

"Get away from us, you Amnian scum!" another ordered.

"It's their fault we're in this!" a third peasant snarled. Several of them stepped forward threateningly.

"Get back!" yelled Witton, scrambling behind his sole bodyguard. "Ilvarstarr! Do something!"

Ajantis turned to him. "Milord, don't- _get down!"_

Witton obeyed instantly with a squeal, his knees slamming into the grass, and Ajantis again bent over him with shield raised as a third volley of arrows descended on the caravan.

He lifted his head several seconds later and looked around; the hostile peasants had scrambled behind the wagon, though several of them now lay either wounded or dead. Several Flaming Fist mercenaries were running up and down the column of wagons, herding people behind them and shouting to each other.

Ajantis hesitated, looking down at the peasants writhing on the ground and clutching their arrow wounds, when a deafening clash of metal made him look over his shoulder once again.

The Dented Shields and bandit horsemen have met on the battlefield. Ajantis spotted a winged helmet amongst them, and the leg of a passing horseman sailing high up into the air above it.

He then looked down at Witton, then grabbed the cowering diplomat by his collar and moved between the two wagons in front of them, dragging him along.

He was about to push Witton behind one of the wagons when he saw that the area behind both of them was crowded with peasants, many of whom looked at the Amnian duo.

"Ilvarstarr!" Witton screamed, his glasses askew. "Don't put me with these people!"

Ajantis looked at the travellers, who stared back with varying expressions of fear, hostility and hatred.

He hesitated, then made his decision.

"This way, milord!" He shouted, pushing Witton away towards the west.

"W-where are you taking me?!"  
"Away from here!"

His thoughts raced in his head as he kept his sword-hand on Witton's shoulder, guiding him in the opposite direction away from the caravan and the bandits.

..

* * *

After nearly a full minute of running flat-out across the plain, Ajantis stopped, and the panting diplomat spun around to face him.

"What did you stop for?! We must get away from here!"

"We cannot leave these people, milord!"

Witton sputtered incoherently for a few seconds, adjusting his glasses. "You're not leaving me here, are you?!"

"I'm not-"

At the sound of hoof-beats, Ajantis turned to his left and spotted a group of five bandit horsemen riding straight towards them. He whirled around and saw five more approaching from the opposite direction, further away from him and Witton than the first group.

Ajantis then looked back to the caravan where bandit arrows were still falling and cursed under his breath as he gauged the distance back to it.

Then, with a calmness that surprised himself, he moved a few steps away from Witton and faced the closer group of bandits, his shield raised high and his broad sword gripped firmly in his hand.

The world seemed to slow down, every sound echoing in Ajantis' ears; the thundering of the horses' hoofbeats, the hooting battle-cries of the bandits, Witton's screams of terror, and his own, steady breathing.

 _So this is it._

He planted his feet in the dirt, lifted his chin, and calmly waited to receive the charging quintet.

Suddenly, thick, brown tendrils burst forth from the earth, entangling the legs of the first group of horses. The air was filled with shouts, cries and whinnying as the bandits either fell from their steeds or were thrown by them to be engulfed by the writhing plants.

Jaheira appeared, her tower shield strapped to her back, running straight into the plants. Unimpeded by them, she raised her quarterstaff and brought it down in a two-handed overhead strike onto the nearest bandit. There was a sickening _crunch_ as the end of the staff smashed into the helpless man's skull, but she did not falter, moving straight to the next.

Ajantis hesitated, watching her, then spun around to face the second group of horsemen; they were forty paces away now and rapidly gaining.

"Ajantis!"

He looked to his right and saw Khalid standing about twenty paces away and waving to him, Dorean and Imoen running up to join the half-elf.

" _Move_ , milord!"

Grabbing Witton by his collar yet again, Ajantis made straight for the trio, keeping his gaze straight ahead as, off to his right, a bandit's pleas for mercy were cut off with another crunching sound.

He could hear the five remaining horsemen rapidly approaching, screaming oaths and curses at the deaths of their comrades, and silently urged his plate-laden body to make it to the freelance mercenaries in time.

"Shoot him!" he heard Dorean shout, and he looked up to see that Imoen had her bow out and aimed at the leading bandit; the dwarf appeared to have lost his crossbow. "Imoen, _shoot him!_ " he ordered again.

Imoen's arms were trembling, and when Ajantis saw her face he immediately understood.

 _She has never shot at a living being before._

Khalid suddenly whirled around, pressed his sword and shield into Dorean's arms, grabbed the short-bow and arrow from Imoen's hands, then turned and loosed.

Ajantis' eyes followed the arrow from Imoen's bow into the leading horseman's chest. The bandit reeled back with a cry, clutching at the arrow shaft sticking out of his gambeson, then keeled forward, dropping his lance and falling from the saddle to be inadvertently trampled by the horsemen behind him.

He then glanced back to see that Khalid had already handed Imoen her bow, retrieved his sword and shield from Dorean, and was now darting forward to put himself some distance in front of the duo and between them and the bandits.

"You'll pay for that, scum!" the new leading bandit screamed. The other three followed behind him, all heading straight for Khalid.

Ajantis gave Witton a rough shove towards Dorean and Imoen, causing the poor man to stumble and nearly fall face-down into the dirt, then raced as fast as his plate armour would allow to Khalid, who now stood alone against four enemy horsemen.

"Jaheira!" the squire called. He did not dare tear his eyes away from the enemy, and thus he saw the horse in the rear suddenly pitch forward, throwing its rider. The bandit had not even stopped rolling after he had hit the ground before a green-robed figure appeared out of thin air over him and drove a dagger down into his neck.

Xzar rose and pointed with his free hand at the three remaining bandits, none of whom appeared to have noticed the death of one more of their number. Glowing pink lights appeared and sped from his hand, slamming into the back of the rearmost bandit. The man's head snapped back and a brief geyser of blood issued forth from his mouth before he toppled backwards from his horse.

The remaining two horsemen had just began to realize what had happened behind them when Khalid darted forward between their horses. His sword sliced through the first bandit's stomach and then into the second's back on the follow-through. Khalid pivoted as the horses sped past him, one rider tumbling to the ground and the other dragged by his horse with his foot ensnared in the stirrup. Ajantis stared and then gave a sigh of relief upon seeing that the man appeared to be unhurt; one of the bandit lances had come within inches of his head.

He then felt Jaheira's hand on his shoulder, and turned around to see her waving impatiently at Witton.

"Hurry! There might be more of them!"

As the party rallied and then made their way back to the caravan, Ajantis reminded himself to thank each and every one of them later (even Xzar), and sent a silent prayer to Helm as well.

 _I suppose it is not yet my time to die._

..

* * *

"The arrows have stopped," said Khalid, lowering his shield. Ajantis hesitated, looking at the caravan where many of the civilians were leaving the cover of the wagons to look out at the battling mercenaries and bandits, before lowering his own.

"Stay vigilant," Jaheira ordered, glancing behind them to check for any more horsemen from the rear.

A Flaming Fist mercenary beckoned them over, lifting the visor of her helmet as they approached. "Saw your work out there," she said. "Not bad, but don't go so far out next time."

"The peasants kept us away from the wagons," said Ajantis. The mercenary frowned and then nodded.

"Then stay close to me. They give you any trouble again and they'll regret it."

Ajantis felt himself turn slightly cold at the statement, but ignored it and nodded back. He and Witton followed the party in between two of the wagons and looked out once more to the east.

"They're fleeing," he said, hardly daring to believe the sight before him; the horsemen were indeed in full retreat, galloping away from their dead comrades and the Dented Shield mercenaries, who hounded and hurled insults after them.

He heard Kagain's voice above all of the din, shouting and cursing in dwarvish, and looked at the Flaming Fist mercenary standing beside him.

"They're scum, but the Shields are at least good for something," she said with a smile, which faded as she looked around at the fallen travellers around them.

Noticing a peasant lying on the ground with an arrow in his thigh, Ajantis left Witton's side and went over to him.

The man recoiled at his approach, and the squire recognized him as the one who had referred to him and Witton as 'Amnian scum.' He blinked down at the peasant's anxious, fearful face, then quietly kneeled down and began examining the wound.

"It's alright," he said reassuringly, breathing in relief upon seeing that the arrow had not severed any arteries.

The peasant watched him in silence as Ajantis removed the arrow and then mended the wound with a whispered prayer to Helm.

The squire then looked up to see Dorean watching him, and blinked at his unreadable expression; the dwarf's beard made it difficult to gauge his emotions.

After a moment, Dorean moved away, prompting Imoen, Khalid, Jaheira and Xzar to follow him, and began seeing to some of the wounded travellers himself.

Ajantis stood up and watched the dwarf hand a suspicious woman a healing potion for her wounded brother.

"...I saw some of the others driving him away from the wagons," the peasant at his feet muttered. Ajantis looked down at the man; he seemed morose now. "He's the other one them bandits wanted, isn't he? The one who killed Gunnhallur Silvershield." He paused, then lifted his head to look up at Ajantis. "Why's he helping us after what we did to him? And why are you?"

Ajantis gazed down at him for a moment.

"Because it's the right thing to do."

The peasant blinked quietly up at him.

"Stay here," Ajantis said gently. "Try not to move the leg."

He turned and moved back to join Witton and the party, ignoring the victory cries of Kagain's mercenaries and averting his gaze as some of them began to loot the bandits' bodies.

He frowned upon seeing Montaron standing in the party's midst, remembering that the halfling had disappeared before the bandits had even started their attack on the caravan.

When he got closer, however, he saw that Montaron was wounded; there were deep gashes on his shoulder and the side of his head just above his ear, and his shirt was bloodied. The halfling was stoically pouring the contents of a healing potion over the wound in his head, not bothering to close his eyes.

Ajantis hesitated upon looking at the other party members and seeing that none of them appeared to be upset or even displeased with him.

He felt an urge to ask what had happened to the halfling when Dorean spoke up.

"Did you kill the archers, Montaron?"

Montaron grunted.

"By yourself?"

Montaron's eyes moved up to Dorean's, and he grunted again.

Ajantis looked out beyond the battlefield and squinted, spotting and counting the bodies of nearly twenty bandit archers lying motionless on the Coastway plain. He blinked once, then silently turned back to the bored-looking halfling.

"Why did you go out there all by yourself?" asked Imoen. Montaron paused, glancing at her, before replacing the stopper on the healing potion and tossing it to her.

"I work better alone," he answered. His black, seemingly empty eyes briefly met Ajantis, and the latter found himself looking away from the man's face.

He quietly detached himself from the party, his mind now filled with questions about this party of freelancers who were allowed into Kagain's war-room.

 _...they could come later. For now, there are many who require aid._

He began moving down the column of wagons towards a group of wounded peasants, ignoring the sound of Witton's feet shuffling along behind him. The diplomat had finally ceased his complaining, for which Ajantis was grateful.

As he was treating a particularly serious arrow-wound in a merchant's stomach, Ajantis looked up at the sound of shouting and grimaced upon seeing Kagain and his men violently shoving and kicking a group of kneeling bandit prisoners.

He then glanced over at where Dorean was helping Jaheira hold a struggling and squirming traveller while she examined his wounds. Dorean had his hands pressed down on the man's shoulders and was speaking to him firmly yet gently.

 _At least there is one dwarf here who has compassion and decency._


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Using his beard to wipe blood off his face, Kagain then pointed at three men who had just been captured by his mercenaries after failing to flee with the remainder of their fellow bandits.

"Bring 'em here with the rest of 'em!"

At his order, the trio were shoved and booted to join the other half-dozen prisoners sitting on the ground.

One of them hesitated, looking around furtively, and Maija, who was sporting a heavily-bandaged shoulder, blood-streaked hair and an ugly sneer, struck him in the head with the haft of her axe to send him tumbling down into the dirt.

Kagain began to smile but stopped upon seeing Lene's face. He hesitated, then stomped over to stand in front of his men who were still shoving and hitting the bandits.

"Alright, alright, hey! _HEY!_ _Knock it off!_ Ya supposed ta be professionals! _Act like it!_ "

He glowered at every one of his men, confirming that he had their full attention.

"Tie 'em up an' search 'em. An' if I see another bruise on _any_ of the prisoners, I'll give all'a ya one myself!"

The mercenaries hesitated before stepping back from the bandits. Several of them, Maija included, glanced sullenly at their leader, but nobody dared voice their feelings on the matter. Kagain scowled at Lene, but said nothing further.

 _Bad form to argue with the sergeant-at-arms in front of the guys and the Fist_ , he reminded himself.

 _Speaking of the Fist..._

He looked over at Vai standing in the battlefield a short distance away. She was speaking to one of her men, and her eyes briefly met his upon noticing his gaze.

"Right," said Kagain, turning to his men. "You three, stay here an' watch these losers. Rest'a ya, ya know the drill; check the bodies for potions an' bandages, everything else is secondary. Get on it!"

He spared a minute to oversee them before making his chainmail-clinking way across the battlefield towards Vai. As he stepped around a fallen horse, Kagain slowed down upon picking up the tail end of the officer's conversation with her subordinate.

"...up a perimeter and see to the wounded," said Vai.

The other mercenary saluted and turned around, but not before giving the approaching Kagain a disdainful look that Kagain was only too happy to return. Vai waited until the man was some distance away before she finally turned to face the dwarf.

"The Amnians are safe," she said, pulling an arrow from her shield. "The outsiders you brought in saved them from a cavalry unit a stone's throw west of here."

Kagain's bushy eyebrows linked into a frown. "The hells were they doing over there?"

Vai gave a heavy sigh. "The caravan travellers," she answered shortly.

Kagain growled through his beard, turning a baleful eye on the line of wagons where the surviving civilians were going about the tasks of treating their wounded, removing and collecting arrows from the wagons, and either gathering or grieving their dead.

"You'll keep your thugs away from them," Vai said firmly. "My men will deal with them. Not you."

Kagain turned his icy-blue eyes on her in response, but grudgingly kept quiet; as much as he hated to admit it (and he will _never_ say it to her face, nor to any other bloody Fist), the Flaming Fist commanded more respect than the Dented Shield company likely ever would.

 _If I were a Grand Duke..._ he thought to himself for what felt like the hundredth time.

"No one dead on my side, Umberlee be praised," said Vai, removing another arrow from her shield. "Only dead are the enemy and the travellers. You?"

Kagain shook his head in answer. He then remembered what Dorean told him about the caravan that had been raided and destroyed the previous day, and looked down at the corpses strewn about and around them.

"These guys aren't Talons," he said, rolling over one of the prone bodies onto its back. He grimaced upon seeing that the dead bandit could not have been a year past human teen-hood at least, but did not look away. "My guys could not have lost a fight to these chumps." He looked up, surveying the battlefield. "Even with numbers an' horses, they couldn't kill a single one'a us."

Vai hesitated, then looked at the caravan. "I kept half my men back in case of an attack on our flank. But there wasn't one, aside from the ten horsemen, and they only went after-"

There was a sudden rush of air, a deafening explosion of sound, and a half-second later, three of the eleven wagons were in flames.

Kagain and Vai stared for a few seconds before simultaneously rushing forward, the latter easily outpacing him.

 _"Get those sodding fires out!"_

As his men gathered to hurl dirt and water onto one of the three raging infernos, Kagain had a sinking feeling that this was only going to be the start to yet another bad day.

..

* * *

"Ya shittin' me."

"No, Captain, I'm not" Lene replied wearily, wiping ash and soot from her forehead. "All the supplies. Food, water, medicine." She paused. "Only things' intact are the cargo."

Kagain blinked up at her, breathing slowly and heavily. Lene remained still, steadily returning his stony gaze.

The sound of laughter floated to them from the battlefield, and both of them slowly turned their heads to look at the offending bandit, who alone out of the dozen prisoners was giggling mockingly at them. He continued to laugh even after one of the three mercenaries guarding him struck him hard across the face with a mailed fist.

After a moment, Kagain marched slowly and deliberately over to him, carefully stepping over bodies along the way, until he was standing in front of the seated prisoner.

"Real funny, huh?" he asked, his voice calm and steady while his eyes bored into the man's.

The bandit nodded in reply and grinned from behind his broken nose. The smile remained plastered on his face even after Kagain's axe cleaved his head from his shoulders.

Without missing a beat, Kagain turned around and strode back to the caravan, returning his bloodied axe to his belt. He ignored the stares of the caravan travellers and the other mercenaries, especially Lene's, and did not stop until he was standing directly in front of Vai and several of her men.

"You told ya people to set up a perimeter," he said, his voice dangerously low.

Vai stared back at him for a moment. Then she slowly planted her feet in the grass, her eyes narrowing to slits as she returned the dwarf's accusing glare.

"There was a mutiny among your people yesterday," she replied, her tone matching his.

Kagain's teeth grinded loudly and threateningly, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. The Flaming Fist mercenaries with Vai tensed at the sight, their hands moving to their weapons.

"I'm startin' to think Imoen has a point," a bored, disinterested voice said dryly. They both turned to see Montaron approaching them with the party just behind him. "Ye horns are locked every time I see ye together."

Kagain's glare intensified; his mood was already black and Montaron's demeanour and words were not helping in the slightest. His axe was still dripping blood, and he briefly imagined sending Montaron's head flying from his shoulders into the air.

Ignoring him, the halfling turned to Vai, jerking his chin at the other Flaming Fist mercenaries.

"Send them away."

The officer blinked and then glared at him, but then turned and nodded to her men, all of whom obeyed hesitantly, shooting looks over their shoulders at the party.

"Found traces of a potion in one of the blown-up wagons," said Montaron.

"Oil of Burning," Xzar said cheerfully. Kagain scowled at him on principle.

"What could have caused the explosions?" asked Dorean. Xzar blinked twice at him before answering.

"Another potion, or a spell. Either would work well, though I am more inclined towards the former; place a Potion of Explosion in the centre of the target zone, then pour the Oil and set it alight. Then, preferably, get some distance before the fire reaches the vial."

"You know much about this," said Jaheira. Xzar frowned, but otherwise ignored her.

"Your headquarters is stocked with potions and oils," Vai snarled to Kagain.

"An' yours ain't?" Kagain growled back. "An' who's got war-mages with her right now, eh? _An'_ ya still haven't explained why ya people failed ta see _anythin'_ while they were supposed ta be settin' up-"

"Throwing blame around isn't going to help us," Jaheira interrupted harshly, stepping forward and planting her quarterstaff in the dirt. "We need to decide what is to be done next."

"Last time I checked, _elf_ , I'm in charge'a this escort," said Kagain.

"What then should we do?" Dorean said loudly, cutting off and earning a frown from Jaheira.

Kagain narrowed his eyes at the gold dwarf's calm, neutral expression.

 _The cargo, yeah. The Amnian noble, yeah. But him too? What the hells for? The friggin'_ _ **bounty?**_

"Excuse me," Xzar said, bringing Kagain out of his thoughts. "My companion asked you a question."

Kagain glowered up at the necromancer and momentarily glanced at Montaron before he addressed Dorean.

"We get up an' get movin'."

"What we need to do is to return to Beregost," said Vai. "We're in no condition to-"

"I'm in charge here, an' I say we keep movin'," Kagain growled. "We had a deal, remember? The caravan escorts are the Shield's; ya only here for soddin' support."

He saw Vai's lips tighten and her hands clench tightly, and could not stop himself from sneering in response.

"I could just leave," she said. "Take my men with me."

"Fine. Go. Explain it ta Kelddath while ya-"

 _"Enough,"_ said Jaheira, thumping the ground with her quarterstaff. "I thought you are both supposed to be _professionals_ ," she said, stressing the word and causing Kagain to bar his teeth at her.

 _Heard me, did ya?_

"We will never make it to the city," said Khalid. "Not in the state we're in. We need to-"

"Ya need ta shut up," Kagain snapped. "Didn't I tell ya? I know every rock in this soddin' wasteland." He looked around at the party, his gaze finally resting on Vai. "Go, all'a yas. Especially you," he added, glaring at the Flaming Fist officer. "I see any of ya boys near me when I'm talkin' strategy, an' I'll fillet 'em myself."

With a contemptuous glare, Vai slowly turned around and stalked away. The party followed her, Khalid glancing coldy at Kagain.

"He's right," Lene said quietly, walking over to Kagain and glancing at the freelancers. "We'll never make it to Baldur's Gate like this."

"Ya think I don't know that?" Kagain growled. He scowled up at the half-orc's stoic, calm stare and then huffed loudly.

"...gimme the map."

As he was fumbling with the scroll, Kagain looked up at the party's retreating backs.

Imoen, who had fallen uncharacteristically quiet, was averting her gaze from the battlefield as well as the nearby bodies around the wagons. Dorean, however, appeared unmoved by the sight, and was calmly wiping blood from his gloves with a cloth at his belt.

Kagain's brow furrowed. Feeling Lene's eyes on him, he silently returned to opening the map.

..

* * *

The saboteur had been thorough. Despite their efforts, the mercenaries found nothing in the wreckage that could be saved or salvaged, and all three wagons were deemed beyond repair.

It took over two hours to loot the bodies, treat the wounded and bury the dead. On top of everything else, the blasted Fist insisted on executing the bandit prisoners in formal fashion by marching them to a copse of trees, loudly announcing their crimes, and then hanging them one by one from the branches.

The only compensation for all of this were the bandit horses that they captured during and after the attack, and it was small consolation since they only managed to acquire six.

It was well past noon bordering into dusk when the caravan finally started moving, and by then Kagain's already frayed temper was steadily worsening. No one dared to look him in the eye as he angrily stomped to the head of the column, which suited him just fine; he felt ready to split in twain the next person to look at him wrong.

To make things even better, one of the wagon wheels decided to break its spokes an hour into their journey, delaying the caravan by another half-hour due to the nit-wit driver not knowing anything about repairing carriages he had allegedly driven for years.

The sun had long set by the time the caravan reached the road leading north to the Friendly Arm Inn. Glaring up at the stars as though they too were responsible for his plight, Kagain ordered the caravan to cross the road and head west into the forest. When various merchants, travellers and mercenaries started to protest, he answered by drawing and brandishing his axe at them.

"For the last soddin' time, I'm in charge, an' you'll do what I say, or ya can _get the hell outta here_ an' make for the city yaself!"

His men exchanged looks with one another, but none of them dared to speak or even mutter while in eyesight of him. Breathing heavily, Kagain belted his axe and stomped off into the trees.

He heard the familiar tread of Lene's wolf-hide boots marching up beside him, but set his jaw and kept his gaze fixed straight ahead.

"You need to calm down."

He neither answered nor looked at her, though he noticed after a while that his breathing had steadied. She continued to walk at his side, and said nothing further.

It was slow going in the forest, and the mercenaries were forced to cut down tree branches and foliage in the path of the wagons. The moon loomed high above them by the time they arrived in a large, sizable clearing where a boulder lay in the centre.

Calling for a halt, Kagain ordered the wagons to be drawn in a circle and a camp to be set up within.  
He then turned away from where his personal tent was being set up and marched over to the boulder. He smiled upon seeing that the ring hidden in the crevice was still there, satisfied that it had not been disturbed, and rolled the boulder aside to reveal the well underneath.

"Alright, form a line," he announced to the travellers moving eagerly forward. "I said form a bloody line! Genn, Tenny! Get some rope an' a bucket, collect an' pass the water. My guys'll be drinkin' first!" he added to the reluctantly queuing civilians.

He then marched over to Lene, who alone out of the Dented Shield mercenaries had declined to approach the well.

"Once they're done havin' a drink, take Maija an' a couple others into the woods. Get as much food as ya can."

"We won't find enough to feed all these people," the half-orc answered.

"So we ration then, what's the soddin' problem?"

She looked down at him, her expression stony. Kagain barred his teeth, but once again reined in his temper.

"Look, just get it done. Let me worry about the rest."

He turned away and marched off towards his tent, feeling her eyes on his back.

As he entered the tent, the mutiny from yesterday came to the forefront of his mind, and he spent a few minutes checking the interior for booby traps before allowing himself to sit down and remove his helmet.

 _Clangeddin, please let nothing else go wrong tonight._

..

* * *

"Captain Kagain?"

He looked up from the map on the table to see Ajantis and Witton standing at the open tent entrance with, to his annoyance, Jaheira and Montaron.

"What?"

"My lord Witton wishes to spea-"

"I demand to know why you have brought us out here!" the diplomat interrupted, stepping around his bodyguard into the tent.

Kagain briefly contemplated hurling a throwing axe past the pompous nobleman's head. He then removed his hands from the table and leaned back to look up at Witton with a condescending eye.

"Because we were out of water, in case ya haven't noticed."

Witton hesitated, seeming to shrink under Kagain's gaze. "Far be it from me to question your competence..."

"Sounds like ya about to," Kagain replied, his voice becoming dangerously low.

"Why have you not done anything to find whoever destroyed our supplies? The culprit could still be among us!"

"He has a valid point," said Jaheira, stepping into the tent as well. "Khalid and I questioned the people who were near the burnt wagons."

Kagain blinked stonily up at the two Harpers. "All of 'em?"

"Including the Flaming Fist mercenaries," Jaheira answered. "As well as your own men." She paused. "They all denied seeing anything suspicious."

Kagain slowly folded his arms across his broad chest. "There a point to this?"

"We want your permission to search your men," said Jaheira. "With you present to keep them from resisting."

Kagain went very still, staring up at her. His eyes moved briefly to Montaron, who had also entered the tent and was now studying the map.

"No," he answered shortly.

"But-" said Witton.

"The answer is no. Don't make me repeat myself. I don't like doin' that."

Witton looked from Kagain to Jaheira and back again before turning on his heel and stalking out of the tent. With a small sigh, Ajantis gave a bow before exiting the tent as well.

"Is that it, or do ya have another reason ta bother me?" Kagain asked, looking back down at the map.

"When were you going to tell us that the raiders attacking the caravans are Blacktalon mercenaries?"

Kagain hesitated before slowly looking up at Jaheira.

"You didn't choose this place because it had water," she said. "It is also defensible."

Kagain said nothing, his eyes moving between her and Montaron.

"You _want_ the bandits to attack us again," Jaheira added, glaring down at the dwarf.

"They will either way," Kagain answered slowly. "Be it here or by ambush on the road." He paused, glancing at Montaron again. "Might as well be inna place of our choosin'; break 'em here, then make for the Friendly Arm. Ain't the first time I've done this, elf. It's worked for me before."

"Unless they know about this place an' have poisoned the well," Montaron said casually, still studying the map.

Kagain and Jaheira both stared at him before looking up at the sounds of a commotion outside.

Cursing loudly, the dwarf donned his helmet and rushed past them out of the tent.

..

* * *

One of his men was now dead, and two others in critical condition.

Kagain watched as all three were carried away by Lene and several of his other mercenaries, grinding his teeth behind his beard. He then looked over at the well where Jaheira was examining a bucketful of water and shaking her head at Vai, then glaring at Xzar as the latter leaned over her and scooped some of it into a glass vial.

A crowd had formed around the well, speaking either loudly or in hushed tones. Kagain heard their laments, suspicions, superstitions and accusations, more than a few directed his way. Their voices sounded distorted to him, as though he were listening to them through a thick bubble.

He felt rather than heard a presence at his side and looked up to see Lene tiredly running a hand over her scalp.

"We're running low on healing potions and the healers have already spent most of their spells." She paused. "Not sure if they're gonna pull through."

Kagain looked away from her and said nothing, watching Jaheira telling Vai that she would attempt to purify the water. Xzar was walking around the well, his eyes fixed on the glass vial between his fingers and muttering loudly to himself. Dorean and Imoen were following the mad wizard, blinking repeatedly up at him as he circled the well a second time. Khalid was watching Xzar from beside Jaheira, and Kagain's eyes narrowed upon seeing the Calishite's hand resting on the pommel of his sword.

"If Jaheira or the Fist mages can't do something about the water, we will have nothing to drink as long as we stay here," Lene added.

Kagain still said nothing. Montaron was nowhere to be seen, which suited him just fine; the casual manner in which he revealed the conditioning of the well's water was so deliberate that the dwarf tightly clenched his right fist at the thought that he had done it _just_ to get him angry.

Like he didn't already have enough to be pissed about.

"This place is compromised," said Lene, raising her voice at Kagain's continued silence. "We can't stay here."

"We move, we get ambushed," Kagain replied coldly without looking at her. "Ain't havin' that."

"I know you don't want to hear this, but maybe we should send a message to Jardak and ask-"

"Maybe," Kagain snarled, turning to face her. "You oughta quit _botherin' me **an' do ya soddin' job!**_ "

Silence fell on the camp like a meteorite, with every eye on the dwarf and the half-orc.

Lene's expression slowly turned cold and distant, and she bowed her head to him before marching back towards the med-tent.

Without looking at anyone, Kagain stalked back to his tent, where upon entry he took off and hurled his helmet into a corner before flipping over the table.

He cursed everyone and everything, then plopped down and leaned back in the chair, tilting his head and glowering darkly at the ceiling of the tent.

 _If you want me dead, Clangeddin, at least have the damn stones to come and do it yourself._

..

* * *

He did not know how long he remained in the chair, be it five minutes or five hours.

It was only at the sound of scrapping wood that he finally lowered his gaze from the tent's ceiling to see Dorean righting the table and drawing up another chair.

Kagain blinked stonily, watching in silence as the other dwarf climbed onto the chair to sit opposite him, then calmly placed a wine bottle and a package of brown paper on the table and slid it across to him.

For a long moment, Kagain remained still, his eyes moving from the two unopened gifts to Dorean. He then slowly leaned forward, unwrapped the package, and blinked slowly at the two thick slices of salted beef.

"It's all I have," Dorean said quietly. "Imoen insisted that we give our food to the sick and wounded."

The two dwarves looked at each other. Kagain then slowly took the bottle, brought it to his lips, removed the cork with his teeth, and sniffed. After a moment, he looked up at Dorean.

"I took it from one of the merchants," he said.

Kagain hesitated. With a heaving exhale, he then spat the cork to one side and took a long draught.

The bottle was half-empty by the time he lowered it back onto the table, and he momentarily closed his eyes as the feeling of fuzzy warmth swept over him. His eyes went to the slices of beef, and he reached out and took one of them.

The next few minutes were spent in silence, Kagain watching Dorean as he ate while Dorean leaned back in his chair and calmly looked around the tent.

"What do ya want?" Kagain asked at last.

Dorean did not answer; he simply looked at Kagain, his expression annoyingly calm.

"Ya scared I'm gonna give ya ta the bandits?" he asked, lifting his chin at the smaller dwarf. "That why ya brought this ta me?"

"I am concerned about the bounty, yes. But not that you might try to collect it." He paused. "I just wanted to improve your mood."

"Why?"

"Because we're all in a bad spot, and we're counting on you to see us through it."

Kagain glowered at him. "Ya sayin' I ain't doin' my job?"

"I think you have had a lot to handle, what with...everything."

"If ya mean the mutiny, then just soddin' say it."

"...the mutiny, yes. I just...wanted to thank you for today. You didn't have to do that."

Kagain sneered.

"Don't think you're so special, nugget. That idiot wanted the iron an' the noble too, remember?" He snorted. "An don't think ya know what I do an' do not have ta do."

He frowned again when Dorean appeared neither angered nor even bristled; he merely nodded slowly and smiled.

"I understand," he said, hopping off the chair. "I have to go help Jaheira now. If-"

He suddenly froze in place, one hand still gripping the seat of the chair.

Kagain's brow furrowed. He watched Dorean swiftly unclasp his cloak and begin wrapping it around his right arm.

Kagain opened his mouth to say something, but stopped upon seeing Dorean's face.

It was now grim and hard, with a ferocity in the eyes; the same expression Kagain had seen in his fellow shield dwarves as they readied themselves for battle.

The screams, howls and snarls from outside spurred Kagain into action. Leaping off his chair, he grabbed and donned his helmet before turning around.

Dorean was already gone, with not even a flap of the tent entrance to hint at his exit.

Yelling a string of curses to the heavens, Kagain unhooked his axe and ran out to face the source of his latest headache.

..

* * *

The instant Kagain left the tent, a mass of slavering teeth and fur leapt straight at his face, and he instinctively swung his axe up in a diagonal arc, catapulting it into the air to crash against a stack of crates.

"Dogs!" yelled the distant voice of the appointed lookout. "Everyone get-" It dissolved into a high-pitched scream, joining the wails and cries in the camp.

Racing as fast as his chain-mail would allow, Kagain reached the well where Ajantis and several of his mercenaries including Lene had formed a ring of shields and weapons around a cowering and trembling Witton.

"Kagain!" Lene shouted as he approached. "Where the hells did these dogs come from?!"

"They're soddin' war hounds!" Kagain answered. His eyes widened as one of the beasts appeared out of the shadows. It leapt up five feet into the air at Lene, who pivoted and brought her scimitar down in an overhead chop, cleaving it in two.

"Where are the freelancers?!" Kagain demanded.

"They went to find the girl, the pink one!" Lene replied, briefly glancing over her left shoulder as Ajantis batted aside another hound with his shield.

To his own surprise, Kagain turned and ran in the direction of the medical tent, roughly shoving aside two scrambling travellers in his path.

He heard a loud snarl behind him and spun around to see a pair of red-lipped jaws filling his vision. His left arm came up, the hound's jaws clamping on the chain-mail, and he swung the hound up into the air before smashing it onto the ground and stomping his steel boot onto its head. Dark blood spurted from the crushed skull, spattering his beard.

"Stinkin' little-" he cursed, forcefully freeing his arm from the hound's mouth and grimacing at the torn chain-mail before resuming his run for the med-tent. "Where the hell is that kid?!" he yelled out loud.

As if in answer, another hound barrelled into him from behind, trying and failing to find purchase on his broad neck.

"Argh, ya mangy-!" Kagain raged, reaching up over his shoulders with both hands and bodily flinging the animal into a nearby campfire. Ignoring its agonized howls, he turned and sped nosily away, narrowly avoiding a collusion with a Flaming Fist mercenary.

He rounded a corner of a tent and spotted a pink shirt among the masses. Imoen was crouching at the entrance to the med-tent about thirty paces away, her bow out and ready, with Khalid and Jaheira standing on either side of her. Four war hounds lay dead at their feet.

"Hey!" Kagain hollered, almost irritably backhanding aside a war hound attacking him from the left. "Where's the nugget?!"

"He's not with you?!" Imoen yelled back. She immediately stood up and began to run forward when Jaheira grabbed her by her collar.

"Imoen, no-"  
"Let me go!"

"Khalid!" Jaheira shouted. Her husband turned to assist her, but was then distracted by two more hounds loping towards them out of the darkness.

"Gods damn it! _I'll_ find him!" Kagain announced. He turned and ran into the crowds, shoving, shoulder and elbowing aside any traveller, merchant or mercenary in his way, calling Dorean's name.

 _How the hell am I supposed ta protect him if he-_

Everyone around him suddenly scattered in all but one direction, and upon turning his head towards it Kagain spotted Dorean about twenty paces away and being chased by two war hounds.

"Shit-!" Kagain hefted his axe and ran, but he knew before he had taken the first step that he would be too late; the leading one of the two dogs was only a few paces behind Dorean, who could not hope to outpace it even if he were a human.

Dorean caught Kagain's eye, and the latter nearly froze in mid-step upon realizing that the younger dwarf's expression was calm; almost serene.

Dorean dove forward just as the leading hound's legs left the ground, its jaws spread wide to claim the back of his neck. He rolled perfectly, coming up on one knee, and then stuck his knife upward as the dog passed overhead. The creature howled in rage and pain as the blade sliced open its belly, covering Dorean in blood and gore, and tumbled lifeless to the ground. He then whirled around and raised his right arm just as the second hound slammed him back-first into the grass. Kagain barred his teeth in a grimace as the creature's jaws closed around Dorean's right arm, tearing through his cloak.

Then Dorean's knife plunged into the side of it's neck, up to the hilt, and the beast froze and died near-instantaneously.

Retrieving his knife and levering the second hound's teeth from his arm, Dorean rolled sideways and stood up, turning to face Kagain, who realized that he had frozen where he stood with his axe raised instead of rushing to help him.

Without a word, the younger dwarf sped past him towards the med-tent, and it took a full second for Kagain to come to his senses and follow him. He forced himself to tear his eyes from the blood flowing from Dorean's right arm as yet another pair of rending jaws approached him from the side.

They swiftly reached the med-tent within minutes, where Imoen wailed and immediately pulled Dorean inside upon seeing him covered in blood and gore. At her high-pitched yells, Jaheira hurriedly followed them in, leaving Khalid to stand with Kagain at the entrance. The latter scanned the ground, noting another three war hounds dead at the half-elf's feet.

"Not bad, soldier-boy!" said Kagain. "Ya might prove ta be useful yet!"

Before Khalid could reply, the snarls, roars and howls throughout the camp suddenly stopped, replaced by a mass pattering of paws.

"They're running for it!" Vai's voice shouted in the distance. Kagain watched a pack of war hounds run past him and Khalid barely ten paces away.

"Owner's callin' 'em back," said Kagain, breathing heavily. "Guess they've had enough."

A chorus of victory cries chased the hounds as they fled the camp, leaping over bodies, barrels and crates and ducking under the wagons to escape the circle-formation of the camp.

For a few seconds after the last one had disappeared into the shadows of the trees beyond the campfires, all of the hounds seemed to become silent, and there was not a single howl or patter of feet.

Then a blinding green light erupted in the direction that the animals had fled, followed a half-second later by an explosion nearly twice as loud as the ones that destroyed the three wagons. Travellers and mercenaries ducked down and turned away, covering their eyes and ears.

Kagain and Khalid, however, did not so much as flinch. They watched as the light slowly receded, and listened to the _screams_ of the hounds.

"...or," Khalid said slowly. "He was forced to call them back."

Kagain slowly looked around, surveying the area around them.

"Was wonderin' where those two bastards got to," he said. "About soddin' time," he added with a growl, noting several of his own men among the dead.

He then lifted his beard to wipe his face and then cursed when he realized too late that it too was covered in blood.

"Just great," he muttered, walking over and tearing a section of cloth from a dead traveller's shirt. His eyes lingered on the man's torn throat before he turned away and wiped his face. "Just sodding great."

Ignoring Khalid's glance, Kagain stood outside the med-tent, listening to Imoen frantically fuss over Dorean and Jaheira telling her to stop interfering and getting in her way.

 _What a cursed trip this is turning out to be._


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

From the outside, the medical tent appeared to be no larger than Kagain's. The interior, however, not only was the same size as the common room of the Red Sheaf Inn but also bore an uncanny resemblance to it, down to the wooden floorboards and faint smell of watered-down ale.

Despite having entered it once before, Jaheira momentarily stopped inside the entrance and blinked a few times before hurrying over to one of the two dozen bedrolls arranged in neat, orderly lines on the floor, half of which were already occupied by either unconscious or groaning travellers and mercenaries.

Dorean was sitting upright while Imoen frantically ran her trembling hands over his blood-covered face and shoulders. Striding over to them, Jaheira kneeled down and set her quarterstaff on the floor, then took hold of Imoen's blood-smeared hands and firmly moved her aside before turning to Dorean.

The dwarf wordlessly raised his right arm. Jaheira grimaced upon seeing the rapidly spreading stain of red on the gray-coloured cloak wrapped around the limb. She swiftly removed the material, revealing the sleeve of Dorean's yellow shirt, now soaked a dark red. Imoen wailed softly at the sight, her bloodied hands moving to her mouth.

Without missing a beat, Jaheira quickly and carefully rolled back the sleeve. She paused upon seeing the sleeve-knife on the dwarf's wrist, recognizing it as one of the two knives that Montaron had returned to him in the Dented Shield headquarters. Her expression unaltered, Jaheira untied the leather scabbard and placed the weapon next to the torn and bloodied cloak.

Her mouth tightened as she quickly examined the two deep bite-wounds on the upper and lower sides of the dwarf's hairy arm, both of which were oozing blood.

There was no time to clean or disinfect it, not with bleeding this profuse.

She pressed her hands over the wounds, feeling his blood stubbornly pushing past her palms and falling onto the bedroll to stain it red.

Imoen's choked sobs filled the tent, and as her breathing became more erratic, Jaheira was about to address her when she felt rather than saw or heard Khalid gently but firmly take hold of Imoen by the shoulders and lead her away from the bedroll.

"Any other wounds?" Jaheira asked curtly.

"No."

She glanced up. It was difficult to tell with the beard, but from his eyes and cheeks, Dorean's expression was the same as his voice; calm and relaxed.

"I cannot move my hands," Jaheira said, tightening her grip as more blood slipped through her hands. "Check your forehead."

"Don't need to," he calmly replied.

Jaheira blinked at him, her face remaining impassive for a few seconds before she frowned down at the dwarf and opened her mouth to speak.

"I don't have any symptoms," he said, cutting her off.

He looked away from her towards where Imoen was currently standing with Khalid, the latter patting her shoulders as she looked on at her wounded roommate through teary eyes.

"Were any of you hurt?" he asked gently, turning back to Jaheira.

"No," she answered shortly.

"Glad to hear it," he replied. Her frown deepened and she returned her gaze to his wound, noting that the bleeding had not lessened.

"I am expended of my healing spells and potions," she said. "In case you are wondering." She kept her gaze down, awaiting his response. When none came, she glanced at his face again and saw that there was no visible change; it was still calm and relaxed, albeit covered in blood.

She turned her head slightly as two Flaming Fist mercenaries hurriedly entered the tent, carrying the body of a third between them. They hurried to the nearest bedroll, which happened to be the one next to Dorean's, and lowered their choking comrade onto it.

Jaheira's eyelids lowered as she noted the blood and tearing of the chainmail around the man's throat; the war hound that had done the deed had successfully avoided his breastplate. She then turned her head further when one of the mercenaries opened a satchel and removed one of several healing potions from within it.

She gave the mercenaries several seconds to treat their wounded comrade before speaking.

"I need one of your potions," she said flatly.

Both men turned to look at her from behind the visors of their helmets. They remained still for several seconds, looking at Jaheira and her patient, before silently returning to treating their own.

"He is bleeding heavily," she said, raising her voice and gesturing with her head to Dorean as more blood forced its way between her fingers and around her palms.

"We're under orders not to arrest or harm the dwarf," said the potion-bearer, his voice distorted due to his full-face helmet. "That does not mean we have to protect or help him."

"I'll pay you for it," said Imoen, reaching for her belt as she strode forward.

"Keep your gold," said the potion-bearer, not looking up from where he was carefully pouring the contents of the vial onto the supine man's throat.

"There's over a hundred in here," Imoen persisted, removing and bouncing her coin pouch in her hand. "You can have it all, we just need one-"

"We do not aid murderers," said the other mercenary, his voice similarly distorted as he lifted his head to glare at Dorean.

"Of course not," a voice drawled mockingly from the tent entrance. "Not unless you are wealthy, influential, or a friend of the Grand Dukes."

With a smile to match his voice, the man known as Eldoth Kron strolled up to stand a few paces away from the two occupied bedrolls, seemingly unfazed by the dual glares from the Flaming Fist mercenaries. In contrast to nearly everyone in the tent, he appeared to be unhurt despite the two battles the caravan had undergone today; even his clothing and dark blue cloak were absent of any dirt or blemish.

"You had better be gone by the time we're done here, freelancer," the potion-bearer said menacingly. Eldoth raised an eyebrow in response before seemingly deciding to ignore the mercenaries. Turning to Jaheira, he reached towards his hip, unclasped a satchel similar to the potion-bearer's, removed a healing potion and stepped forward.

"May I?" he asked, dangling the vial between thumb and fore-finger.

Jaheira narrowed her eyes at him before glancing at Dorean, who was still maintaining a demeanour of relaxed calm despite his heavy bleeding and was now impassively watching Eldoth. She then removed her hand from the wound on the underside of the arm, wordlessly took the vial from Eldoth, removed the stopper one-handed, sniffed the contents, and promptly began applying them to Dorean's arm without so much as a word of thanks to the bard.

Seemingly taking no offense, Eldoth gave Dorean a smile and incline of his head before turning around with a sweep of his cloak and sauntering towards the exit. He halted briefly as he reached it, said a quick "Pardon me," and stood aside to let two very familiar (and seemingly unscathed) figures pass by him.

Montaron's eyes followed Eldoth out of the tent. Xzar's ignored the bard, focusing instead on Dorean and widening upon seeing the blood on and around him. He hurried over to the bedroll, the two severed hounds' heads falling from his hand and hitting the ground with a 'thump' as he reached into and drew a healing potion from his robes.

Dorean took one look at Jaheira's face and then quickly raised his free hand. "It's alright, Xzar, I'm okay now!"

"Don't be ridiculous!" the wizard said shrilly in a voice not unlike that of a scolding fishwife, drawing looks from the Flaming Fist mercenaries and other patients. "Why, you've bled enough to fill a pint!" He then looked at Jaheira who was watching him warily, frowned, and tossed the vial to her. She caught it one-handed without taking her eyes off him.

"Have him drink that, and make sure he takes it all," Xzar ordered. He folded his arms and huffed at Dorean. "Such a stubborn child. Just like your father."

Dorean, Jaheira and Khalid stared at him. Then, slowly and deliberately, Dorean took the potion from Jaheira, opened it and lifted it to his beard. His eyes remained fixed on Xzar as he drank, and he held out the vial once it was empty. With a satisfied smile, Xzar leaned over Jaheira to take it. Khalid flinched while Jaheira went very still, her cyan eyes boring into the wizard's face. Thus, neither of them saw Imoen approaching until she was kneeling down in front of Dorean.

"How is he?" she asked softly, looking at Jaheira.

"...the bleeding has ceased," the half-elf replied, turning back to and examining both wounds on Dorean's arm. "But the wounds are still open and at risk of infection."

"No need to worry about that, Jaheira," said Dorean. "And thank you."

Imoen blinked, nodded quietly, then wrapped her arms around Jaheira's shoulders. The latter blinked three times before frowning at the side of the girl's head.

"I hardly think this warrants an embrace," she said reproachfully.

"Shut up and lemme hug ya," Imoen replied. Jaheira scowled but did not move, waiting until Imoen drew back, smiling at her.

"Thank you, Jaheira."

"Yes, yes, now - oh, for Silvanus' sake, child!" Jaheira exclaimed as Imoen hugged her again.

Finally relinquishing her hold on the half-elf, Imoen then turned to Xzar, paused when he shrank back from her and said, "Oh, right." She then looked at him, seeming oddly despondent, before blinking and turning to Dorean.

"The man who helped you. Do you know him?"

Dorean paused in the midst of applying a dressing to his arm and shook his head.

"His n-name is Eldoth Kron," said Khalid, approaching the bedroll. "He's one of the freelance m-mercenaries."

Imoen's brow furrowed in thought. She then blinked as Montaron went over to stand next to Khalid in front of her. Her mouth opened and then closed as she noticed the halfling's eyes sweeping over Dorean's torn, bloodied cloak, his arm which Jaheira was now helping to bandage, and finally the dwarf's face.

"Ye have fought dogs before."

There was no question in the sentence. Dorean silently returned Montaron's cold, piercing gaze, his bloodied face seemingly emotionless behind his beard.

After a moment, Montaron removed and tossed an empty crossbow onto the cloak next to the dwarf.

"Try not to lose this one."

He then turned away, ignoring the eyes of the party following him as he exited the tent.

"Xzar," Imoen said after a moment.

"...yes?" Xzar replied cautiously, leaning back from her in case she attempted to hug him.

"Why did you take those?" she asked, pointing at the two dogs' heads now lying on the floor.

"Oh," Xzar said, lowering his hands in relief. "I'm taking their skulls."

"I see," Imoen replied. "Are you making more skull traps?"

She then turned to see the entire party staring at her. Jaheira frowned and opened her mouth to speak when Jessa Vai marched into the tent, followed by four of her fellow Flaming Fist mercenaries, all of whom appeared bloodied and battered.

Dorean tensed as they drew closer, stopping at the occupied bedroll next to his.

"How is he?" Vai asked, looking down at her wounded and now seemingly unconscious comrade.

"Not good," the potion-bearer replied. "We've done what we can. The rest is up to him now."

Vai paused, nodded and then turned to face the party, revealing a fresh set of partially-healed claw marks on her right temple.

"All of you. Outside. Now."

They watched as she marched back out with her entourage. Imoen then turned to see Dorean pulling his blood-soaked sleeve over his bandaged arm.

"Little brother..."

He stood up and gathered his belongings, surreptitiously stowing the sleeve knife in his shirt, then picked up his torn, blood-stained cloak. Imoen watched as he put it on, then sighed and stood up to help him with his pack.

"Come on," Dorean said quietly, nodding to Khalid, Jaheira and Xzar, all of whom then watched as a resigned Imoen followed Dorean from the bloodied bedroll towards the tent entrance.

As they began to follow the Candlekeep duo, Jaheira felt rather than saw Khalid coldly staring at the two Flaming Fist mercenaries. She placed her hand on his arm near the elbow and gave it a light squeeze. In response, Khalid slowly turned his head away from the two men.

Their unfriendly eyes followed the party out of the tent, lingering on Xzar pausing to pick up the severed dogs' heads, and it was a moment before they returned their attention to their unconscious comrade.

..

* * *

Vai was waiting for them outside the tent, her men filed out in a line behind her. She did not waste any time, speaking as soon as the party had emerged from the tent.

"The Amnians are missing and I need to see to my men. Find them."

Jaheira stepped forward, planting her quarterstaff in the ground with a _thump_. "We are not-"

"My men and I are only here as support for the caravan," Vai interrupted. "Witton is not our problem. He is yours." She returned Jaheira's glare with her own. "Find him. _Now._ "

Her order given, she immediately turned and strode away, the mercenaries and Jaheira's scowl following after her.

"We may have to kill her," Xzar purred. The party turned to look at him. He was now holding the dog's heads by their ears in one hand. "Oh, don't worry," he said upon seeing their faces. "I could frame someone else for it. The dented dwarf, perhaps. Or one of her men!" he added, perking up with a childish grin. "I hear she is _quite_ unpopular among her fellow officers."

There was a moment's silence save for his giggling. Imoen then leaned over and poked Xzar in the chest. The wizard blinked, then shrieked and leapt straight up into the air, the tongues in the severed heads lolling out of their mouths as they flew up and then landed on the ground. He remained still for a moment, then glared at Imoen, turned his back on her and crossed his arms.

"I think I know where to start looking for him," Dorean said, seemingly choosing to ignore what he had just witnessed. "Come on."

He walked away without looking at the others. Glancing at Xzar, Khalid and Jaheira both took Imoen by her shoulders and marched her away to follow the dwarf.

Xzar remained fixed in place, arms folded and head bowed in sulking, glowering fashion. After a moment, he blinked, looked around, then hastily picked up the severed heads and loped after the party.

..

* * *

The caravan travellers and mercenaries were only midway in the process of setting up camp when the war hounds had launched their attack, and they were now currently preoccupied with seeing to their wounded and setting up defensive measures around the camp's perimeter. The air was permeated with the smell of blood, along with a stench that suggested that a latrine was among the necessities that had yet to be prepared.

They rounded a tent and saw bodies being stacked in a neat line on the ground. The war hounds had succeeded where the bandits on the plains had failed; several of the corpses wore the uniforms of the Flaming Fist and Dented Shield companies. Imoen turned pale and averted her gaze, earning a hand on her shoulder from Khalid and a head-tilted stare from Xzar. In contrast, Dorean stoically and silently counted the number of dead mercenaries before he began to lead the party past the row of dead.

"Are you certain the horses are being kept on the east side?" he asked Khalid. The half-elf nodded in reply, still looking at Imoen. Dorean paused, glancing pensively over his shoulder at his roommate, before turning away.

Jaheira's gaze lingered on the torn and blood-stained cloak on the dwarf's back, and her eyes slowly narrowed as she scrutinized the back of his head.

"I was taught it in Candlekeep," Dorean said without looking around.

"Gorion?" Jaheira asked, her voice noticeably softer than usual.

"No," Dorean replied. "Winthrop."

Imoen's eyelids lowered slightly. Glancing at her, Khalid and Jaheira exchanged looks. The latter had turned back to Dorean and was about to question him again when a voice somewhere beyond the camp boomed loud enough to carry across it.

"Attention, travellers," it announced, its tone brisk and grim. "We have you surrounded. You have no food, water, or medicine. Your friends and families are now dead and dying. All this, you have brought upon yourselves." It paused, seemingly to let the effect sink in. "Our offer still stands. The Amnian nobleman, the dwarf, and the iron. Leave them beyond sight of your camp, and we will allow you to leave with your lives. You have until dawn. Do not force us to do something we will regret."

Silence fell upon the camp, and for a moment, no life appeared to stir within it.

"Ah, an amplified voice," Xzar said idly. "I have not used one in many years. Not since my time as an apprentice."

"We need to move," Dorean said tersely, glancing furtively around as numerous eyes began to turn in their direction.

The party had not gone ten paces before a group of peasants and travellers moved to block their way.

"We have no quarrel with you," Dorean said, keeping his voice and expression calm. The man at the foremost of the group stepped forward, hefting a wooden club.

"That don't matter," he said, his voice weary yet possessing a determination that increased with every word. "You heard 'im. We gotta hand yez over or they'll kill us all." He looked round at his fellow travellers, many of whom were nodding in agreement with him.

"They are lying," Dorean replied, his voice and face turning stony. "They are going to kill us all anyway. Let me go and I'll fight them with you."

"Me dad's dead because'a you," said a boy in a blood-stained tunic, elbowing his way to the front of the group and glaring fiercely at Dorean through tear-streaked eyes. "You an' that other stinkin' groundling." He hefted a wooden club half his own height.

"It's not his fault," Imoen replied, stepping forward and attempting to push Dorean behind her. The dwarf refused to budge. "I'm sorry for your dad, but-"

"Enough'a this!" a middle-aged woman at the rear of the group shouted. "Get 'em!"

The group moved forward, and in the blink of an eye, Khalid and Jaheira were in front of Dorean and Imoen, both throwing a swift, single punch to the jaws of the impromptu leader and the boy. Both peasants instantly went limp and tumbled to the dirt, halting the rest of the group in their tracks.

"That was only a warning," Jaheira said, fixing an icy glare on the remaining travellers hefting their daggers, sticks and shovels. "If you persist, we will truly resort to violence. Walk away."

There was a hoarse cry from behind the party, and Khalid and Jaheira both spun around to see Xzar gripping a burly peasant in a chokehold. The latter dropped his knife as his hands shot up in a futile attempt to pry the wizard's left arm from his throat.

There were gasps from the other humans as blood issued from the man's mouth and his face turned blue as Xzar, his face twisted into a wide grin, mercilessly tightened his grip.

 _"Xzar! Release him!"_ Dorean bellowed.

Xzar went stock-still, blinking slowly. Then, his widened eyes fixed on the dwarf, he relinquished his hold. He ignored the peasant falling to his hands and knees and gasping for air, staring at the dwarf like he had grown a second head.

"He persisted," the wizard said, his voice small and meek. He then leaned back and raised his hands in a surrendering gesture as Dorean stepped forward, gray eyes flashing angrily.

"We're wasting time here," he said. Without another word, he turned and walked straight through the group of peasants, gliding past the ones not quick enough to get out of his way.

Imoen hesitated before rushing after him, followed by Khalid and Jaheira, the latter glaring at the peasants and travellers on either side as she passed.

After a moment, the travellers all slowly turned to look at Xzar. He blinked at the numerous stares, then looked down and scowled upon seeing that he had dropped the dogs' heads yet again. Scooping them up, he bounded after the party, and the peasants parted like reeds to allow him through.

..

* * *

Thankfully, there was no more hostility from the remainder of the caravan travellers, and in little time Dorean reached the eastern-most area of the camp. He looked at Khalid who pointed at two wagons set up parallel to each other. The party then rounded the corner of one of the wagons to see the six captured bandit horses tied to a single tree, and two tall figures, one of whom was hooded, cloaked and attempting to secure a saddle to one of the horses.

The second figure was instantly recognizable despite the scarce torchlight that had been set up in the area; Ajantis' plate armour gleamed bright in the moonlight as he turned to face the party.

"Thank Helm you are here," he breathed, though he hesitated for a few seconds upon seeing Xzar hurrying up from the rear and swinging the hounds' heads in his hand.

"The horses were left unguarded?" Dorean asked, immediately scanning their surroundings.

"Yes, unfortunately," Ajantis replied distractedly, turning back to his companion who paused in securing the saddle to turn to the party.

"You again," said Bartholomew Witton, drawing back his hood. He now looked even more haggard than ever, and there were dark circles around his eyes behind his cracked spectacles. "I suppose you are here to prevent my departure," he added, his voice now more calm and levelled than they have ever heard. "Well, you can tell Captain Kagain and Officer Vai that I won't be needing their services any longer. Or yours, for that matter."

"The Flaming Fist do not see it that way," Jaheira replied, stepping forward and planting her quarterstaff in the ground. Witton's eyes narrowed and his lips tightened as he turned his gaze onto the half-elf.

"I see. Well, if you are going to force me to stay, you had better get on with it." He turned away and began to mount the horse.

"No one's going to force you, sir," Dorean said, stepping forward and looking pointedly at Jaheira. "But if you leave now, you will be caught and killed within the hour. We cannot allow that."

"From here, the Friendly Arm Inn is a half-day's journey on foot. That is only a few hours on horseback." Witton replied. His voice was low and distant, as though he was speaking more to himself than to them. "I can make it at a full gallop."

"No. You will not," Khalid said, moving to stand in front of the horse. "The Blacktalons are skilled archers. They will cut you down, on horse or no."

"It's too dangerous, Bartholomew," Imoen implored, joining Khalid in standing in front of the horse. It blinked and twitched its ears at them.

"Listen to them, milord," said Ajantis. "Do not do this."

"I thank you all for saving my life today," the diplomat said, his chin high and his gaze fixed straight ahead. "Get a horse, Ilvarstarr. We are leaving."

Ajantis stared up at Witton, then slowly drew himself together and took a deep, loud breath through his nose. Witton's bespectacled gaze slowly lowered to the squire's face.

"I understand the importance of your mission, sir," Ajantis said quietly. "I truly do. But I cannot - I _will_ not abandon the people here. Not even for your sake."

Silence fell. Xzar tilted his head and stared at Ajantis.

Witton stared at the younger Amnian's face, and for a fleeting moment, he was suddenly no longer a haughty, aloof noble but merely an old man. Then he lifted his chin again, looking down coldly at his bodyguard.

"You are a credit to your Order, Ilvarstarr."

He held Ajantis' gaze for a few more seconds before abruptly blinking rapidly and then pitching sideways off the horse.

"Milord-!"

Ajantis managed to catch Witton just before he hit the ground. Jaheira was immediately at his side while Khalid swiftly drew his sword and shield and began to scan their surroundings.

"He is burning up," Jaheira said brusquely, placing a hand to Witton's forehead. "Was he bitten?"

"I...I do not know," Ajantis replied. "Perhaps. He would not let me see to him, and he did not appear to be hurt-!"

They both looked back to the diplomat as he began to cough violently.

"We need to get him to the med-tent, quick," said Dorean. "Imoen, could you help Ajantis to carry him?"

Imoen looked down at the still-blood-covered dwarf. For a fleeting moment, her expression was clouded. Then it softened and she nodded to him before going over to help Ajantis lift Witton off the ground.

While Khalid, Jaheira and Ajantis were preoccupied with the diplomat, Dorean slowly and casually returned his blowpipe to his pocket. As he turned to begin leading the party again, his eyes met Xzar's. He pretended not to notice the wizard's smile, realizing a second later that it would have been less suspicious to appear nonplussed by it.

..

* * *

Having spent the past quarter-hour giving out healing potions to wounded mercenaries, Eldoth Kron ducked behind an empty wagon and breathed a mixed sigh of frustration and relief. He then lifted up his satchel with both hands, his lips pursing in displeasure at the now-empty bag.

Oh, well. Not like it was his to begin with.

He tossed it onto the ground, sat down next to it, leaned against the wagon and then tilted his head back. He briefly gazed up at the stars before closing his eyes. His breathing slowed and deepened as he enjoyed his self-appointed break, listening to the sounds of the camp.

"Eldoth Kron."

The voice was casual. Bored, even. It was also barely two paces to his right.

"That ye name now?"

Eldoth did not open his eyes. The corners of his lips lifted into a pleasant smile.

"Good evening, Montaron," he drawled languidly. "It has been too long."


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

With what felt like his hundredth frustrated growl that day, Kagain stomped over to the peasants setting up the barricade, his steel boots splashing mud and dirt.

"No, not like that!" He hollered, waving his arms. "Diagonally! Ya want 'em jumpin' over the spikes?!"

The weary peasants all turned to look at him. Kagain stared back for a moment before snarling and running a hand across his face and beard, smearing grime and blood on both.

"Stupid sods don't know what 'diagonal' means..." he muttered loud enough for everyone around him to hear. "Up. Lift 'em up! No, not that hi-"

There was a crash followed by a billowing cloud of dust that swept over the dwarf. Kagain stood still for a moment, staring at the collapsed barricade, wood chippings and splinters now added to the collection of blood and dirt on his beard, before growling inarticulately and moving towards the peasants with mailed fists clenched.

A hand came down hard on his shoulder and he spun around.

"I _told_ you to leave them alone," Jessa Vai ordered. Kagain's blue eyes narrowed to slits.

"Ya have three soddin' seconds ta take ya hand off me an' what do ya lot want now?!" he snapped past her. Vai turned to see the party led by Jaheira standing behind them.

"The Amnians are in the medical tent," Jaheira informed Vai, ignoring Kagain's outburst.

"What happened?"

"Severe fever," Jaheira answered curtly. "Unless he receives proper treatment, I doubt he will last the night."

Vai drew back, her expression suddenly unsettled. Then it hardened as she refocused on the party.

"We will receive the brunt of the blame if he passes," Jaheira said, her voice dripping contempt as she gazed with half-lidded eyes at the two mercenary leaders.

"You don't need to remind us of it again," Khalid added coldly. He was standing between Xzar and the Candlekeep duo, all three of whom looked at him with varying expressions of surprise and trepidation at the stone-faced glare he was directing at Vai.

The Flaming Fist officer's eyes moved from Khalid to Jaheira and back again. After a moment, she stiffly turned and marched away without a word.

"Nice goin'," Kagain growled. "Ya've made her even more mad at us."

"You're welcome," Imoen said dryly. Kagain glared balefully at her, the slap from the day before still fresh in his mind. Next to Imoen, Dorean slowly rested his left hand on a throwing dagger hidden in his belt.

"Oh, these defences are _pitiful_ ," Xzar admonished, distracting and gaining everyone's attention. Kagain glanced briefly at the severed dogs' heads in his right hand, grimacing at their lolling tongues. "With this kind of planning, the caravan will be overrun and slaughtered in..." he lifted his eyes to the night sky and silently calculated. "Fourteen minutes and nine seconds."

There was a collective pause.

"Ya got any better ideas?" said Kagain. "Wait, don't bother. I don't wanna hear 'em."

"He's r-right, though," said Khalid, keeping himself between Xzar and Dorean and Imoen. "We can't just w-wait to be attacked."

Kagain's eyes narrowed as he regarded the party, and his right hand fell to his side, index finger tapping the haft of his axe. "What are ya sayin'?"

"We are saying," Jaheira replied, lowering her voice. "That we need to speak to you in private."

Kagain looked up at her. Behind him, the exhausted peasants prayed to and cursed their gods as they strained to erect the collapsed barricade.

"Ten minutes. My tent," he said shortly.

With another unfriendly look at the rest of the party, Kagain turned and moved away, scolding and barking orders to several of his nearby mercenaries to help the peasants.

..

* * *

After spending a few minutes yelling at his men, Kagain, true to his word, left the camp perimeter and headed for his tent, picking splinters out of his beard and swearing under his breath.

He began to snarl when the area around the tent appeared to be empty, then blinked upon seeing Dorean standing just inside the entrance; the smaller dwarf was hidden well enough behind the tent flap that Kagain had nearly failed to spot him.

Nettled at himself, Kagain stomped over, roughly pulled the flap aside and glowered down at him.

"What the _hell_ are ya doin' in here?"

"Sorry," Dorean answered. "The Talons' announcement. I've been attacked once already."

Kagain glared at him. Dorean stared back impassively.

After a moment, Kagain shoved past him and began to scan the interior of the tent.

"I see one thing outta place, I'm breakin' ya soddin' nose," he threatened.

"Will we be overheard in here?" Dorean asked. Kagain turned and frowned at the annoyingly calm and collected gold dwarf, then resumed checking his belongings.

"Just say what ya here ta say, nugget," he said, moving around and past the table in the middle of the tent. "Case ya haven't noticed, I'm soddin' busy."

"Witton was poisoned."

Kagain froze with his hand on the lid of a heavy (and dwarf-sized) wooden chest. He did not turn around.

"We found him trying to flee on a horse. He was hit by a dart just before he could leave."

Kagain's eyes slowly narrowed, glaring at the wall of the tent.

"Ya catch the guy who did it?"

"No. We didn't realize it until we had brought him to the med-tent."

Kagain lowered his head, closed his eyes, then brought his fist down upon the lid of the chest. He did it seven more times, each blow harder than the last. The wood cracked and splintered beneath his mailed fist.

Afterwards, there was silence save for Kagain's deep, drawn-out breathing. He then opened his eyes and turned around, his face now oddly calm.

"What else?"

Dorean hesitated. "Jaheira's taking us out of the camp. We're going to attack the Blacktalons."

Kagain blinked slowly at him, his eyelids falling and rising once.

Then he slowly crossed the tent and rounded the table. Dorean neither flinched nor backed away, moving only his eyes as Kagain stopped right in front of him.

"Plannin' on runnin' away, are ya?" Kagain said softly, gazing down at the considerably smaller dwarf. The stench of his breath struck Dorean's face, and the latter's eyes suddenly flashed, his teeth grinding loudly behind his bloodied beard as he glared up at Kagain.

"You think I want this?" he growled. "If I were in charge of that damn group, none of us would be going out there."

"Ya lyin' ta me, nugget?" Kagain said, his voice dangerously soft. "I don't like it when I'm lied to."

"If I was going to run, do you think I'd _come here and_ _tell you_? _**Alone?**_ " Dorean snarled.

They glared at each other through thinly-narrowed eyes, Dorean's fierce and Kagain's ice-cold. Dorean's small shoulders trembling above his clenched fists.

Kagain's gaze then lingered briefly on Dorean's thoroughly-stained right sleeve before returning to his face, which along with his hair and beard was still coated in blood and gore.

Neither of the two bloodied and filthy dwarves spoke or moved for a long moment.

"There'll be a lot of 'em," Kagain said, breaking the silence. "An' they'll likely be expectin' ya."

"I know," Dorean replied. "Jaheira knows too. Not that it's stopping her," he added bitterly. Kagain slowly angled his head to the side.

"So she sent ya ta tell me."

"Didn't want you thinking we had run off. Also, if we had all shown up, it would have looked suspicious."

Kagain blinked slowly, his eyes boring into Dorean's. After a moment, he slowly turned and walked back to the chest.

Lifting and tossing aside the battered and cracked lid, Kagain spent a few seconds rummaging before removing a large leather pouch and tossing it across the tent.

Dorean caught it in both arms, an audible hiss the only reaction to the impact on his wounded arm. He hesitated, then opened the clasp of the pouch and blinked at the vials of healing potions and antidotes crammed within.

"My private stash," said Kagain. "Any that ya don't use, ya better return ta me when ya done."

Dorean looked up at him and nodded.

"Thank you," he said solemnly.

"Can ya soddin', stinkin' gratitude," Kagain snapped. "Now if there's nothin' else, ya can get outta here. An' don't damage the bag. It's worth ten times more'n you are."

Dorean blinked and then nodded again, still infuriatingly calm. He turned away and then stopped with one foot towards the exit.

"You should be careful, Kagain."

Kagain's hairy brow furrowed.

"Tellin' me ta watch myself when ya the one goin' out there?"

"The saboteur. He might still be in the camp." Dorean paused. "If we make it through this, I'm buying you an ale."

Kagain blinked, then frowned and snorted at the gold dwarf. "Get the hell outta here before I throw ya out. Wasted enough'a my time."

With another nod, Dorean disappeared through the tent exit. Kagain glared after him, then turned and began checking his belongings again.

..

* * *

Pretending to look at a group of peasants skinning and roasting a few war hounds, Dorean once more glanced behind him before approaching an alcove between two wagons. He rounded the corner and was immediately smothered by a pink-clad bosom.

"About time!" Imoen exclaimed, pulling back to look at him with her hands on his shoulders. "What took you so long? you had us all worried! Are you okay? Did anyone attack you?"

Dorean blinked slowly up at her before tilting his head to look past her at Jaheira, Khalid and Xzar.

"Had to make sure I wasn't followed. And keep your voice down," he added to Imoen, shrugging off her hands from his shoulders. The dwarf then walked over to and held the pouch out to Jaheira. She frowned before taking and examining it.

"How did you get this?" she asked without looking up.

"Kagain gave it to me," Dorean answered. "He said we have to return any that we don't use," he added.

Imoen walked over to look in the satchel, blinking at the number of vials stored within.

"Maybe he's not so bad after all," she said slowly.

There was a sound not unlike a cat growling. Everyone looked at Xzar. The wizard's arms were now folded across his thin chest, his head turned to the side away from Imoen. The dogs' heads now hung from his belt, the blood from the neck stumps lightly staining his green robes. Imoen blinked and tilted her head.

"Are you _sulking?_ "

Xzar growled again, turned his body to face the same direction as his head, and tightened his folded arms around his chest. Khalid and Jaheira briefly glanced at each other before the latter wordlessly handed him the satchel and turned to Dorean.

"I would like to reiterate that this is an exceedingly foolish idea," she said sternly. "And again insist that we remain in the camp where we have defences and numbers, and wait for the Black Talons to come to us."

Dorean coolly met her gaze despite the half-elf practically towering over him. "If the rest of the group agrees with you, so will I," he replied cordially. "However, I still believe that in this case, the best defence is offence. Especially since we now cannot trust anyone in here with us."

Jaheira frowned down at him. Imoen looked at Dorean before sliding up beside him, taking his hand and joining him in looking up at Jaheira in quiet opposition.

Jaheira leaned back and placed one hand on her hip while the other held her quarterstaff. After a moment, she looked to her husband for support.

Khalid looked from her to the Candlekeep duo, clearly debating with himself on who to side with. Eventually, he deflated and stepped back, silently stating his decision to abstain from the impromptu vote. Jaheira frowned at him and huffed softly through her nose before silently returning to her attempt to stare down Dorean and Imoen.

"Xzar," said Imoen, keeping her eyes on Jaheira. "Help us out here."

Jaheira's glare intensified. Xzar was still standing and facing off to the side. He neither spoke nor moved a muscle.

"Xzar," Imoen implored again, louder this time. "What do you think?"

"We're being watched."

The party all glanced at him for a second before simultaneously turning to look around the alcove.

"Come out _right now_ ," Jaheira ordered, cyan eyes focusing on the boxes and barrels stacked between the two wagons.

A moment passed. Then a familiar face rose from behind a crate.

"Ah, hello," said Garrick, standing up and clambering over the crate. "I'm sorry to intrude-"

Jaheira's quarterstaff shot up, the tip stopping inches from his neck. The bard froze.

"I don't mean you any harm..." he implored, keeping still as Khalid went over and relieved him of his sword and crossbow.

"Yet two of us here and three bystanders were struck by bolts of lightning," Jaheira replied coldly.

"Yes, and that is precisely why I volunteered for this caravan escort!" said Garrick, looking to Khalid who now stood behind him with his sword pointed at the bard's back. "I want to repay the debt I owe to you all."

"By spying on us?" Xzar said without turning around.

"By joining you," Garrick answered. Jaheira glanced briefly at Dorean and Imoen before narrowing her eyes at the bard. "I...overheard you earlier," he confessed. "You're all planning to attack the Black Talons before they could attack the people here. A bold and noble move, sir," he added to Dorean, then flinching as Jaheira's quarterstaff jerked threateningly at his throat. "And highly dangerous! I know of the Black Talons..."

"Do you," said Jaheira.

"Yes, my lady, I do," said Garrick, now sounding slightly miffed. "Mercenaries from the City of a Thousand Spires. Tough and disciplined, a step up from your regular sellsword." He paused, looking over the quarterstaff at its owner. "You suspect me of being their spy."

"I didn't say that," Jaheira said softly.

"I can tell," Garrick replied. "It's...a little obvious." He grinned sheepishly at her.

"Jaheira?" said Khalid. Her eyes moved to his, and he shook his head. She hesitated, then slowly lowered her quarterstaff.

"Thank you," said Garrick, lowering his arms.

"Do you really want to come with us?" asked Imoen. "It...might get a little hairy out there." She paused. "Actually, it pretty much will."

"I understand. And I do," the bard replied, looking around at the party. "Let me make up for my earlier mistake. I can do more with you than I could by staying here."

There was a collective pause as the party contemplated their potential new ally.

"Xzar?" said Imoen. "What do you think?"

Xzar remained still for a long moment before slowly pivoting on his feet while keeping his arms folded to face the minstrel. He then stared at Garrick for twenty seconds straight, during which the latter shifted uncomfortably and glanced at the rest of the group.

"I think," Xzar said at last. "That it is very impolite to eavesdrop on other people."

There was a moment's silence before Garrick spoke up.

"But...you do that all the time."

Xzar's eyes went wide.

"You're a Zhentarim agent," Garrick explained. "It's rather obvious," he added, gesturing politely to the wizard. "If so, then you also spy on people. So that would make _you_ impolite too."

Xzar stared bug-eyed at Garrick. He then opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, closed it a second time, then bristled and snarled in a manner again uncannily resembling a cat before whirling around and putting his back to the entire party.

A moment passed. Xzar lowered his head. He sniffed once, as though he was holding back a sob. Everyone stared.

"So...could I join up with you?" Garrick asked.

Khalid and Jaheira looked at each other. The latter then turned her gaze onto Dorean, who blinked and looked up at her.

"Your plan," she said sternly. "Should he be involved in it?"

Dorean seemed to contemplate this. He then stepped up beside her, looking up at the boyish-looking minstrel.

"It will be very dangerous," he said softly. "We cannot guarantee you'll make it through this."

Garrick nodded sombrely. "I understand completely." He smiled at Khalid. "I have already pledged my sword to this caravan. It would be wrong of me to go back on it."

"You could get killed out there," Dorean said, his voice now terse.

"I know," Garrick replied, now smiling kindly at the dwarf.

Dorean looked at Imoen and then at Jaheira before returning his gaze to the bard.

"...alright, Garrick," said the dwarf. "We will welcome your aid."

Garrick beamed and gave a low bow. "It will be my pleasure to grant it." He turned to Khalid. "Urm, may I have those back?"

Khalid blinked before returning the bard's sword and crossbow to a reproachful look from Jaheira.

"Thank you," said Garrick, returning his sword to its scabbard. "I promise I will not let you down."

Jaheira stared at him, her demeanour now cool and aloof. She held his gaze for a moment before turning away and facing Dorean and Imoen.

"So be it, then."

Dorean nodded to her. He felt Imoen squeeze his hand, and lightly squeezed hers back.

"What about Montaron?" he asked, looking at Xzar. The wizard neither answered nor turned around.

"We should go look for him," said Imoen.

"There is no need," Xzar answered.

"We could use his help," said Dorean, pointedly ignoring Khalid and Jaheira. "Could we really afford to leave him behind?"

It was a moment before Xzar turned around, noticeably averting his gaze from Garrick.

"We won't leave him behind, little dwarf," he said softly. "He will find us."

..

* * *

The forest was dead-quiet, save for the distant sounds of the camped caravan; the winds that usually blow in from the coast were now absent, and even the nocturnal animals seemed to have collectively decided not to venture out that evening.

The near-silence was broken by the shuffling of a half-dozen pairs of feet, punctuated by the occasional whispered argument.

Six figures suddenly appeared out of thin air, the smallest one elbowing the second-smallest away.

"That hurt!" Imoen exclaimed, clutching her hip.

"I _told_ you to let go of me, didn't I?" Dorean hissed. "And keep your voice down!"

"Excuse me for not wanting you to get separated from us again," Imoen grumbled.

"How am I supposed to walk when you're right next to me and I can't see-"

"Enough, both of you!" Jaheira said, her harsh whisper cutting the air like a knife. "We did not just expend a valuable scroll for you to immediately give away our location!"

Dorean and Imoen fell silent, looking up at the now-visible half-elf.

"From now on, Khalid and I are in charge," said Jaheira, her voice brooking no argument as she looked from Dorean to Imoen to Garrick. "Keep close and keep quiet. Move only when we tell you to." Her eyes rested on Xzar, who was ignoring her and staring at the Candlekeep duo. "Understood?"

"Yes, Jaheira," Dorean and Imoen chorused while Garrick nodded.

"Ye oughta teach 'em sign language," a voice said.

Garrick jumped. This time, however, Khalid and Jaheira neither whirled nor reached for their weapons, instead calmly turning to face Montaron approaching from behind a tree.

"How did you track-" Jaheira's demanding inquiry died on her lips as Eldoth Kron stepped around the tree as well.

"Eldoth?" said Garrick, his brow furrowing.

"Garrick," Eldoth drawled, inclining his head before smiling at Khalid and Jaheira. "Hello again, Khalid. And you must be Jaheira. A pleasure."He paused, awaiting their inquiries. When none came, he continued unperturbed. "I suppose you are curious as to why I am in his company," he gestured to Montaron. "You see-"

"He's a Zhent," Montaron interrupted. "Former partner'a mine."

Silence struck the party. Eldoth blinked, and for a half-second his smile seemed to falter. He slowly turned his head to look at Montaron, his smile widening as he gazed down at the halfling.

Jaheira's eyes narrowed to slits. Her quarterstaff was already in her hand. Khalid, however, now appeared even more menacing than her; he glared coldly at Eldoth with open hostility, hands hanging loose at his sides.

"He's comin' with us," said Montaron, casually walking past the half-elves and tilting his head sideways to regard Garrick.

"He isn't," said Jaheira, slowly turning to face him and keeping Eldoth in her peripheral vision.

"Ain't askin'," Montaron replied, still studying the increasingly-uncomfortable-looking Garrick.

Jaheira took a step towards him.

"Do you trust him, Montaron?" said Dorean. Jaheira stopped. Khalid blinked and glanced behind him. Eldoth's eyebrow rose and he cocked his head. All three levelled their gazes at the dwarf.

"Not in the slightest," Montaron replied. He reached up and removed one of the small pouches on Garrick's belt. The minstrel did not resist, blinking rapidly as he looked from Montaron to the rest of the party.

"If I may speak for myself -" Eldoth began.

"He's a two-faced swindler an' an all-round scumbag," Montaron went on, placing Garrick's pouch in his belt. "But he's useful in a fight."

Eldoth fell silent again, his smile now gone. Dorean hesitated, glancing at Khalid and Jaheira. He blinked twice, lowered his head, then looked up at Imoen. She returned his gaze, studied Eldoth, then walked past Montaron and Garrick to Xzar in the rear of the party. The wizard blinked at the pink-clad girl as she stopped in front of him.

"Do you know Eldoth, Xzar?"

Xzar stared at her for a moment before looking up at Eldoth.

"No."

Imoen considered this. She then turned around and raised a hand to her chin. After a few rubs, she lowered her hand and looked at Dorean.

"I don't think so, Monty."

Montaron blinked and then glared.

"Don't call me -"

"I'm alright with Garrick; he seems okay," Imoen interrupted, moving next to and patting Garrick on the arm. "But Eldoth...I'm sorry, but everything about you just screams 'I will double-cross you.'"

Eldoth's brow furrowed for a few seconds before he frowned and placed his hands on his hips. "That is quite unusual of you to say, my lady, considering your current choice in halfling and wizard."

"Eldoth," Imoen said slowly. "You have a moustache. A _moustache_ _ **.**_ " She waved her arms in the air before folding them across her chest. "You helped my little brother, and I am grateful. But I cannot support you joining us."

Everyone stared at her. A cricket chirped.

Then Montaron marched up to Imoen.

"I weren't askin' fer ye permission, kid," he said softly.

A _click_ emanated from off to the side; Dorean's loaded crossbow was now pointed at Montaron's head. The halfling went very still, his black eyes remaining focused on Imoen. Next to the latter, Xzar's green eyes slowly settled on the dwarf. A small smile appeared on his lips.

"Maybe we should all just take a breath," Garrick suggested. "We still have bandits to find, and the night won't last forever. We should save our blades for them. Not each other."

Dorean did not lower the crossbow. Montaron remained where he stood, eyes fixed straight ahead.

"If I may get a word in," said Eldoth, strolling between Khalid and Jaheira to stand next to Montaron on the side not facing Dorean's crossbow, which coincidentally placed him in front of Xzar. "Montaron here has assured me that if I were to exhibit even the tiniest sign of treachery towards anyone here, even the two of you," he gestured lazily at Khalid and Jaheira. "He will kill me slowly and painfully." He placed a hand on the halfling's shoulder. "He also shared with me the methods by which he would administer such a demise. Quite unnecessarily, I might add."

"Remove ye hand before I do."

"If nobody has any objections," said Eldoth, moving away from Montaron and spreading his arms wide. "I propose this; have your wizard place a geas on me, prohibiting me from any disobedience or acts of betrayal."

For a long moment, silence returned to the forest. Eldoth looked from one party member to the other, lifting his eyebrows at each of them in wordless appeal.

Then Dorean lowered his crossbow and removed the bolt.

"No geas."

Jaheira's head snapped in his direction.

"I'll trust you, Montaron," the dwarf added, walking up to Eldoth. "And Eldoth Kron, I think I am willing to take a chance with you."

He raised his right hand. The bard paused, then smiled down at the friendly dwarf and accepted the handshake.

"Dorean," said Khalid. "I d-don't think this is a w-wise choice."

"You may be right," Dorean replied, releasing Eldoth's hand and walking up to the half-elves. "But the fact is, we need all the help we can get. And if Montaron says he's good in a fight, I believe him."

"You are taking _him_ at his word?" said Jaheira.

"Yes," Dorean replied. "I am. Until he gives me a reason not to." He paused. "If you cannot accept this, Jaheira, you may return to the camp. None of us will hold it against you."

Jaheira was still for a moment. Her gaze shifted slowly to Eldoth, then to Khalid and finally back to Dorean. Her head rose slowly, and she gazed past her nose at the little dwarf. Dorean blinked, but otherwise his expression did not falter.

Jaheira returned her gaze to Eldoth, her eyes hard.

"You will not stray from our sight nor do _anything_ without our express permission. You make one wrong move and I will assume you intend us ill and respond accordingly."

Eldoth neither flinched nor hesitated. He faced Jaheira and bowed his head low.

"I would give you my word, my lady, but -"

"That includes speaking," Jaheira snapped. Eldoth blinked, opened his mouth and then quickly closed it. With another baleful glare, Jaheira looked around at the rest of the party.

"Follow me and stay close."

The party quietly fell in line and followed her through the undergrowth.

As Imoen passed by him to reach Dorean's side, Eldoth turned to her.

"It is a goatee," he muttered to her. "Not a moustache."

"It _is_ a moustache," Imoen whispered haughtily, lifting her chin.

"No talking!" Jaheira's voice commanded from the front.

In the rear, Xzar stepped over plants and tree roots, head lowered and brow furrowed in concentration as he examined his own facial hair.

..

* * *

Kagain rubbed the bridge of his large nose, ignoring the grime and dirt that he was smearing onto it.

"So inna nutshell, the soddin' noble's gonna die an' there's nothin' we can do about it."

"...I am afraid so," Ajantis replied, standing up and moving to stand beside him.

Lowering his hand, Kagain allowed his eyes to remain closed for several more seconds before opening them to gaze down at the pale-faced Bartholomew Witton lying on the bedroll.

"Are you certain you don't have any more medicine?" Ajantis implored.

"For the third soddin' time, no, we don't soddin' have any more soddin' medicine," Kagain growled. He then turned to Maija who was standing nearby. "Go help the others with the barricades."

"What are you doing?" Ajantis asked, turning to watch the female mercenary heading for the medical tent's exit.

"Said it yaself," Kagain replied, gesturing to the supine diplomat. "He's gonna die. No sense givin' him a bodyguard detail now."

"You're rather quick to dismiss his life," a voice said to his right. Kagain blinked three times, clenched his right fist so tight it hurt, then slowly turned to face Jessa Vai.

"What the hell does that mean?" he said, his voice dropping with every syllable.

"What do you think it means?" she answered. Blood was still flowing from the claw marks on her temple. Her hand rested on the mace at her hip.

Kagain stared at her for five seconds. He then unhooked his axe from his belt. Vai began to draw her mace.

 _"ENOUGH!"_

Ajantis' voice boomed across the tent, rousing unconscious patients from their slumber. The two mercenary leaders froze, their heads turned towards the squire.

"Right now, there is only one group of people that I trust, and _neither_ of you are among them." He glared at both of them before turning back to Witton. "If you intend to kill each other, then do it outside."

Kagain and Vai stared at him. After a moment, Vai returned her mace to her belt, gave Kagain another accusing, contemptuous glare, and stalked out of the tent.

Kagain watched her leave, then returned his gaze to the slowly-dying diplomat.

"If there is nothing else, Master Kagain, I must ask you to leave," Ajantis said, his voice stern and cold. He did not turn around, keeping his gaze on Witton.

Kagain stared stonily at Ajantis' back before stomping out of the med-tent.

He made his way through the camp, looking neither to the left nor right, his expression gravel and his mood black.

His mind was elsewhere as he approached his tent, and when he stepped inside, it took him a full second to spot the human skull on the table.

A curse died midway on his lips as it exploded, enveloping him in blinding green light.


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

A dull _boom_ echoed from far behind, and the party turned around to see the fading green light above the trees.

"Ah. A Skull Trap," Xzar mused. "Well-made. And in the heart of an enemy camp. Impressive." He smiled at the spot where the light had disappeared before turning and blinking at the party, all of whom (even Montaron) were looking at him.

"...oh. I see," he huffed. "I am a necromancer, so it _must_ have been me, yes?" He folded his arms and frowned at Jaheira. "Well, I am so sorry to disappoint you, Madam Harpy, but I did not cast _that_ one."

Imoen and Garrick exchanged uncertain looks while Eldoth raised a sceptical brow. Montaron slowly turned away and began to scan their surroundings.

"If anyone here should be a suspect, it's me," said Dorean. "I separated myself from all of you to speak to Kagain."

Everyone turned towards him, Khalid's eyes widening as he looked down at the dwarf coolly returning their collective gaze.

"We need to keep moving," Jaheira said abruptly.

"...shouldn't we go back?" Imoen asked hesitantly.

"No," Jaheira answered. She began to turn away, then looked back to Dorean. "I do not retract what I said about this being foolish. But I will concede your point; we will accomplish more by staying on our present course."

Dwarf and half-elf held each other's gaze for a brief moment before the latter looked round at the others.

"Move quietly and follow my lead."

The party nodded and followed Khalid and Jaheira through the undergrowth, with the exception of Xzar who remained behind, watching the spot where the light from the Skull Trap had faded. His brow furrowed, and he rubbed his chin.

After a moment, Imoen walked back and gently tugged on his robes. He blinked and turned to her, then silently allowed himself to be guided back to the waiting party.

..

* * *

The silence was starting to weigh on Imoen. It amplified what little noise there was; every boot (or shoe in Xzar's case) descending on fallen leaves and twigs, the rustle of clothing, and the occasional _clink_ of Khalid's splint-mail.

It had been nearly twenty minutes now and unless her senses were playing tricks on her, the forest was growing quieter with every passing minute.

Imoen looked over at her little brother; he was walking ahead of her, crossbow loaded and ready. Her eyes lingered on the sleeve of his right arm, now stained a dark red, and on his torn, blood-stained cloak. For the umpteenth time, she thought about his proposal to leave the camp and take the fight to the bandits, as well as his poisoning of Bartholomew.

Up ahead, Jaheira stopped and raised her hand to signal a halt. As she and Khalid paused to check their surroundings, Imoen sensed movement at her side and looked down to see Montaron opening her food-bag. He grunted in displeasure upon finding it empty again, then closed the flap and moved away.

Rather than speak to the anti-social halfling, Imoen turned to his eccentric yet considerably friendlier partner.

"He seems grumpier than usual."

"He hates forests," Xzar explained idly, still glancing back in the direction where they had seen the effects of the Skull Trap. "More so when there are Harper druids in them."

Eldoth raised an eyebrow. "Truly? I did not know Montaron was so averse to nature."

"Shut up," the halfling replied emotionlessly.

Noticing Dorean and Garrick exchanging a look from the corner of her eye, Imoen looked worriedly over to where Khalid and Jaheira were approaching from the head of the party.

 _They've been at each other's throats from the moment they've met._ _ **Please**_ _don't let this happen again. Not now._

"The Black Talon mercenaries are close," said Jaheira. "And they are alert. It will not be easy to approach them undetected."

"I don't see anything," said Dorean. Jaheira frowned at him but did not reply; she had removed her tower shield and was now tying her quarterstaff to her back.

"Where are you going?" Khalid said abruptly. Imoen blinked and then followed his gaze just in time to catch Montaron disappearing into the undergrowth.

"There he goes again," she sighed.

"He does this often?" Garrick asked.

"All the time," Eldoth replied. "It's practically a habit."

"I distinctly remember telling you not to speak," Jaheira said coldly. Eldoth raised his brow at her before giving a polite yet unmistakably mocking incline of his head. Garrick's eyes darted between the two, and he looked about to place himself between them when Khalid suddenly whirled around.

Two arrows sped out of the undergrowth and lodged themselves in his tower shield.

"Cover!"

At his command, Imoen immediately crossed the short distance between her and Dorean and tackled him to the ground.

"I don't see them!" Garrick's voice shouted.

"Straight ahead! At them!" Jaheira answered.

As arrows flew above their heads, Dorean and Imoen scrambled on their hands and knees towards a nearby evergreen tree. Imoen paused to lift her head and look around.

She spotted Khalid and Jaheira, tower shields aloft and gathering arrows as they advanced towards the unseen enemy. The latter's quarterstaff was still tied to her back. Garrick was following close behind the half-elves in a low crouch with crossbow in hand. Imoen's eyes swept the rest of the area, panic rising in her belly as she spied Eldoth's blue cloak slinking away into the undergrowth. Xzar and Montaron had disappeared.

"Imoen, _move!_ " Dorean hissed.

The two of them reached the large evergreen. Standing up, Imoen hurriedly drew her bow, nocked an arrow, closed her eyes and breathed deeply before looking around. Her eyes widened as she realized that _all_ of their companions were now nowhere in sight.

"We're scattered," Dorean said without looking at her. Imoen glanced at him and swallowed involuntarily upon seeing him lower his crossbow to clutch his right arm.

Turning to the other side of the tree, Imoen breathed in deeply again and then peered around the trunk. An arrow passed within inches of her temple and she swiftly pulled her head back.

"I can't see anyone," she whispered, her heart thudding loudly against her ribs. "It's too dark."

Without turning around, Dorean reached into his pack and held up a glass vial.

"Drink it now."

Imoen hesitated and Dorean's hand jerked the vial insistently. She then reached out and took it, her shaking hands fumbling and dropping her arrow as she removed the stopper and pressed the vial to her lips.

As she drank, her ears picked up the sounds of battle somewhere close by. For a second, she thought she heard Jaheira roaring a battle cry to the heavens.

She lowered the now-empty vial and blinked as the world of shadows and colour fled from her eyes.

 _Infravision._

"They're getting further away from us," said Dorean, his voice low and grim.

He gave a quick peek around his side of the tree and swiftly ducked back as an arrow struck the tree trunk, spreading a small layer of frost over the bark.

"Sniper," he said, turning to her. "In a tree, thirty yards ahead." He grimaced behind his beard. "Four others with him. We've been bloody cut off."

Imoen looked around, dismay mounting as her newly-acquired infravision quickly noted the distance between them and the other trees.

 _We're pinned down_.

Dorean leaned out and fired his crossbow. Imoen did the same with her bow, firing at the first moving thing she spotted. Her arrow sped into the undergrowth, narrowly missing a mercenary swordsman as he ran in a half-crouch off to the side and disappeared behind a tree. Imoen pulled back just as an arrow passed through where her head had been.

"They're flanking us," she said, breathing heavily. "We can't stay here."

When no answer came, Imoen suddenly whirled toward Dorean, afraid that he had been hit.

He was looking at her, crossbow lowered and unloaded in his hands.

"Dorean...?"

His eye-lids lowered, and he reloaded the weapon without looking at it, keeping his gaze on her.

She saw the steely glint in the gray orbs of his eyes, and realized what he had decided.

She reached out to grab him just as he moved from behind the tree.

The arrow struck him in the chest. He fell and rolled, and the sound of the wooden shaft snapping was _deafening_ , and she heard his teeth grind loudly as he lifted himself to one knee and fired.

A strangled cry emitted from up ahead and high above, followed by the thud of a body hitting the ground.

Dorean's crossbow slipped from his fingers and he fell to his hands and knees.

"Go," he croaked loudly as blood began to pour from his lips.

Imoen stood frozen in place, bow and arrow in her hands. She ignored the sounds of the Blacktalon closing in behind her with sword raised. Her eyes remained fixed on Dorean's face, watching his brown beard turn dark red.

 _"Do as I say!"_ Dorean screamed. _"Get to the others!_ _ **Now!**_ _"_

She felt her own body move, dodging the Blacktalon's sword.

Imoen fled through the undergrowth, leaping over tree roots and ducking her head to avoid low-hanging branches. Arrows flew past her, embedding themselves in plants and trees and covering them in frost.

She ran like she had on the night that they left Candlekeep.

..

* * *

The world was turning increasingly blurry. His senses were becoming dulled, save for the starbursts of pain in his chest.

Falling onto his side, Dorean listened to the fading footsteps of Imoen and her pursuers. They were quickly drowned out by the approaching footfalls of the two remaining swordsmen.

He tried to play dead, only to nosily vomit more blood.

"She got away," one of the Blacktalons murmured, glancing in the direction where Imoen had fled.

"The others will get her, do not worry. At least we got this one," said the second mercenary. He placed a boot on Dorean's stomach, rolled him onto his back and raised his sword with the tip pointed down.

"Wait! It's him; the dwarf. The one we're supposed to take alive."

The first mercenary kneeled down over Dorean's supine form and swiftly examined his wound. A choked cry escaped Dorean's lips as the broken arrow was pulled out of his chest, and his left hand scrambled for his belt knife. The Blacktalon's hand grabbed his wrist.

"I wouldn't fight back if I were you," he said.

Dorean struggled feebly as the mercenary, keeping his right hand firmly gripped around the dwarf's wrist, deftly removed and poured a healing potion onto his wound.

The knives in his belt and sleeve were taken, and he grunted in pain as he was hoisted over his healer's shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The overwhelming pain in his chest settled slowly into a dull agony as he was borne away.

For some reason, he thought of Imoen's nagging for him to put on weight, and despite everything, he could not suppress a low chuckle.

..

* * *

Despite Imoen's best efforts to throw them off, the two Blacktalons continued to pursue her, loading and firing their longbows on the run. She ducked and wove through plants and past trees, using the darkness and the foliage as cover, but they stubbornly refused to lose her. An arrow passed within inches of her ear, causing her heart to skip a beat as she nimbly leapt over a tree root.

Get to the others, he had told her. Anger washed over her, and she contemplated turning back.

 _No. He is right. I can't rescue him alone._

Tears briefly formed at the corners of her eyes and were blown away almost immediately as she rolled under a low tree branch and sprang to her feet. The two mercenaries had ceased firing and were now focused on catching up to her. Their footfalls and the rustling of parted foliage was not far behind. She did not dare look behind her or slow down, much less shoot back.

The sounds of battle were much closer now, and Imoen ran so quickly that she reached the battleground before her senses caught up to her.

Her breath caught in her throat as her infravision picked out the cooling heat signatures of a half-dozen corpses littering the forest floor; one was missing an arm and head, while another's face had been grotesquely caved in.

"Imoen!"

She looked up to see Garrick calling to her from behind a tree, and Khalid and Jaheira a short distance away fighting four Blacktalon swordsmen. The half-elves were standing back-to-back, Jaheira wielding a wooden club along with her tower shield.

Then an arrow slammed into Imoen's back, sending her face-first into the leaf-strewn dirt.

As pain blossomed throughout her torso, Imoen looked up to see Garrick fire his crossbow at her two pursuers, only to receive an arrow in the right shoulder that spun him around and sent him to the ground.

Gritting her teeth, Imoen lifted her head and reached behind her to grab the arrow. A low gasp escaped her lips as she pulled it out, and she started to crawl towards the fallen bard.

She had gotten five paces before blood-curdling screams suddenly filled the air. Rolling onto her side, Imoen looked up to see both Blacktalon archers screaming at the top of their lungs as they clutched at the hands clamped over their faces from behind.

Releasing both men, Xzar stepped past as they fell, ignoring their anguished howls as boils began to fester on their faces and hands where his own had made contact. He reached Imoen, took her by the shoulders, dragged her over to where Garrick now lay at the base of the tree, then kneeled down and drew a healing potion from his robes.

"I'm fine!" Imoen protested with a raise of her arms; indeed, while her back was searing with pain, it wasn't nearly as bad as she feared. "Give it to him!" She tilted her head to Garrick who now had both hands clamped around the arrow in his shoulder; his head was bleeding as well from where it had impacted with a tree root.

Xzar paused and looked at Garrick. The bard's boyish face silently pleaded to him for help. Pouting, Xzar then reached over and pulled out the arrow, causing a cry of pain from the minstrel. He then carelessly poured half the contents of the potion onto the wound and then roughly pressed the vial to Garrick's mouth; the bard's eyes darted to the two Blacktalon mercenaries writhing in agony and clutching their increasingly reddened and swollen faces as he quickly drank from the vial still clutched in Xzar's hands.

"Thank you," he coughed, turning his head to see Jaheira barely avoiding a sword-thrust to her thigh. "We have to help them-"

Xzar stood up, raised his arms, and launched a spell. Imoen recognized it immediately as it left his hands.

 _Horror._

The four Blacktalon swordsmen all suddenly recoiled in terror from seemingly nothing. Three turned and fled while the fourth fell to his knees and buried his face into the dirt.

Khalid slowly lowered his sword and shield. His shoulders slumped and his head turned from left to right as he gazed down at things that only he could see. His tanned features had turned pale, and his eyes were empty and unfocused.

Then Jaheira's hands grabbed him by the shoulders, and she shouted his name along with other words in Elvish.

Imoen glanced at Xzar standing next to her; the wizard's eyes were locked on Khalid, and even with her infravision, they seemed to glow with unnatural fervour.

Flute music suddenly played from beside them, and Imoen turned to see Garrick with a wooden flute in his hands and at his lips, his expression now oddly calm.

Khalid abruptly blinked and looked at Jaheira in surprise, then clumsily hugged her while holding his sword and shield. The half-elves embraced each other for a few more seconds before Jaheira suddenly let go, marched straight up to Xzar, and punched him hard across the face.

Imoen and Garrick reeled back as Jaheira then reached down, grabbed the supine wizard by the front of his robes and pulled her fist back again.

"The little one has been captured," Xzar said. His voice was clear and devoid of emotion. "Search north-east, druid, and you will find him."

Jaheira froze with one hand still gripping Xzar's robes. She stared down at the callous Zhent, who blinked as blood from his smashed nose flowed into his eye.

"Jaheira!" Imoen implored, stepping forward and placing a firm hand on the woman's shoulder. "It's true, I was there! Dorean's badly hurt, we have to get to him now!"

Jaheira remained still. She did not take her eyes off of Xzar.

"Jaheira!" Imoen shouted again. She turned her teary eyes onto Garrick and Khalid, both of whom had not moved.

Then Khalid suddenly spun around and took an arrow on his shield, and everyone darted for cover save for Xzar, who first rolled across the ground before joining Imoen and Garrick behind their tree.

"More of them!" Khalid yelled.

"Leave them to me," Xzar replied. "All of you, go and save the little one."

Imoen and Garrick looked at him and then at each other. Jaheira on the other hand reacted immediately.

"Khalid!"

She ran out from behind her tree with tower shield raised.

"Imoen! Garrick! Follow me!"

Khalid and Garrick obeyed at once, retreating from the arrows as Jaheira plunged into the undergrowth. Imoen hesitated, looking up at Xzar.

"You heard her," he said. "Go help your brother."

Imoen blinked, then set her jaw and nodded.

Xzar watched as she sped from behind the tree after the others; the back of her now dirty pink shirt was stained red, but only slightly; her armour had taken most of the arrow-head.

He lowered his gaze to the ground and leaned his back against the tree as the three Blacktalon swordsmen accompanied by two archers reappeared, pulling their fourth comrade to his feet. Their faces were contorted in rage.

 _"We're going to skin you alive!"_

Xzar reached into his robes and removed his medallion. He gazed down at the image of the jawless skull on the purple sun. Blood dripped from his broken nose onto the holy symbol.

As the mercenaries advanced with swords and bows raised, Xzar lifted his gaze from the medallion in his hand, and his green eyes shined brightly in the night.

The foremost of the Blacktalons rounded the tree and lunged at him, and Xzar smiled as he sidestepped the blade and brought his palm up to the man's face.

..

* * *

The Blacktalon carrying him was strong; he neither slowed nor faltered as he bore Dorean on his right shoulder and followed his comrade.

The dwarf tried to focus on their ongoing direction. However, the combination of the stabbing pain in his chest along with his vision being upside-down and consisting mainly of the mercenary's back all conspired to prevent it.

So he instead pretended to have passed out, and when he was suddenly released and thrown to the ground, it was all he could do not to let out a grunt of pain.

"Who in the hells is this?" said a new voice, its Iriaeben accent considerably thicker than that of the two mercenaries who had captured him.

"The dwarf, sir," said Dorean's now-former carrier. "The one we want alive," he added with an invisible question mark at the end.

There was a half-second's pause. "I know that!" A heavy boot nudged Dorean's head. He remained still and kept his eyes shut. "Looks dead to me."

"He's alive, sir. Unconscious."

"Shut up. Well, well...Khosann will reward me for this."

"Lieutenant Raiken!" another Iriaeben accent sounded a short distance away. "Lieutenant!"

Dorean chanced a peek; two men were currently standing over him, one his carrier and the other a shorter man with white hair contrasting with his youthful features. The latter was wearing chain-mail and wielding a war-hammer.

"What are you doing here, Private?! You're supposed to be flanking the enemy!" the man called Raiken shouted. Dorean's carrier winced as spittle issued from the officer's lips.

"My squad was ambushed, sir! Three dead, I don't know what happened to the others. Viconia sent me. She needs reinforcements!"

"Useless, incompetent drow! Twenty of my men and she still could not fulfil a simple task! I should have handled this myself!" Raiken paused. "Who ambushed you? Flaming Fist? Dented Shields?" He fell silent for a few seconds. "Is it the elf?"

"N-no," the Black Talon answered with an involuntary shudder. "Just one man, and he's smaller. Dwarf or halfling, I didn't get a good look at him." He paused. "Sir, those reinforce-"

"One man?! You lot were attacked by _one man_ and you ran here to ask for more?! I should kill you for your cowardice!" Raiken spat, brandishing his war hammer. The two Blacktalons reeled back, and as their attention was diverted, Dorean turned his head very slightly to look around; five more mercenaries were standing nearby, including the one who led his carrier here.

"One man! _One man!"_ Raiken screamed. "Khosann will have my head for this!"

"Sir?" one of the other five mercenaries stepped forward. "Lieutenant Teven is not far off. We could-"

"If you think I am going to ask _anything_ of my blighted brother, you are sorely mistaken," Raiken snarled. "Now _you_ ," he said, pointing at the reporting Blacktalon with his hammer. "Get back out there and kill those bastards before I-"

There was a sudden, familiar _whizz_ and the reinforcement-requesting Blacktalon suddenly pitched forward with a cry, a crossbow bolt embedded in his back.

As brown vines burst up from the ground, scattering leaves and twigs into the air, Dorean sprang to life and attempted to roll away, only to feel rough hands grabbing at his cloak. He kicked out with one boot while the other scrambled for his boot-knife. The Blacktalon who had carried him earlier lifted him up off the ground again, pressed the dwarf's back to his chest, and swiftly held a knife to his beard.

"Stop!" the man shouted.

Dorean ceased struggling as the blade of the knife cut into his beard, and his eyes swept over his surroundings.

The Blacktalons were now all ensnared around the legs, including Dorean's captor.

Khalid and Jaheira were to his left, each with a dead Blacktalon in front of them. Garrick and (Dorean's heart leapt) Imoen were to his right, leaning around trees and pointing their ranged weapons at the mercenaries.

"Call off these things!" Raiken shouted, struggling against the vines curling around his knees. " _Now_ , _or your friend dies!_ "

"Jaheira!" Imoen pleaded. Dorean glanced at Jaheira, and their eyes met briefly before the vines slowly retracted back into the earth.

Reaching down and picking up a shield, Raiken sneered at the druid and her husband before looking at Imoen and Garrick, both of whom had their weapons trained on Dorean's captor. The three other Blacktalons moved back from the half-elves to surround Raiken, their swords and longbows at the ready.

"Drop your weapons!" Raiken commanded.

"So you can kill us?" Garrick answered. "I don't think so."

"You don't seem to understand the situation, _freelancers_ ," Raiken answered derisively. "I have your friend, and I am taking him with me. And unless you want him to get his throat cut, you will drop your weapons _right now_."

Nobody moved. Raiken looked from one duo to the other, his sneer widening.

"You think I won't kill him because I have orders not to?" he snarled. "Well...you might be right." He turned to Dorean's captor. "Cut off one of his ears."

 _"You do it and I'll kill you!"_ Imoen shrieked, her arrow aimed directly at the face of the man holding the dwarf.

"What are you waiting for?!" said Raiken. "Cut his bloody ear off _now!_ "

"I'm afraid I won't be doing that, Lieutenant," the Blacktalon answered.

Dorean blinked and glanced up. The man's Iriaeben accent was gone.

Before anyone could react, the Blacktalon moved; he released Dorean, stabbed Raiken in the forearm holding his war hammer, then wrapped his free arm around the officer's neck and spun him around to face the other Blacktalons, all in the span of three seconds.

"What-?!" the mercenary who had accompanied him exclaimed.

As he tightened his hold on Raiken's neck, the man's face flickered, then was replaced by a different, very familiar one.

"Imposter!"

"Thank you for stating the obvious," Eldoth replied dryly.

The remaining Blacktalons' eyes darted from Eldoth to Raiken and then the party, uncertainty building on their faces. Imoen dashed forward to where Dorean had fallen, placing herself between him and the Blacktalons. She aimed her short-bow at the nearest one who stood only several paces away.

"Three of you, gentlemen," said Eldoth. "Six of us. I suggest you put down your weapons and leave."

"Don't you dare- _hurk!_ " Raiken gasped as Eldoth's forearm pressed into his neck.

"Do you really wish to risk your lives for this man?" Eldoth asked. "Would he do the same for you, I wonder?"

Dorean slowly rose to his feet and stood next to Imoen. Khalid, Jaheira and Garrick moved closer, weapons and shields raised. The three Blacktalons remained where they stood, exchanging looks with one another.

After a moment, they lowered and dropped their swords and longbows, then turned to run.

Montaron then leapt down from the tree branch above and killed them all.

He wiped his dagger on the sleeve of one of the mercenaries before sheathing it and proceeding to search the bodies.

No one spoke for a long moment.

"You used him as bait," said Jaheira, her eyes boring into Eldoth's as she gestured at Dorean with her shield.

"I needed- hold on," Eldoth replied. He raised his hand and brought the pommel of his knife onto the top of Raiken's head, cutting off the latter's loud cursing. "I needed a way to get to him. Now we have a means to bargain; Taugosz Khosann will grant us passage in exchange for one of his officers. Am I correct?" he added to Garrick.

"...yes he would," Garrick replied. Dorean noticed that the bard was now holding his crossbow left-handed; he was bleeding lightly from his shoulder and forehead. "Khosann is not an unreasonable man."

" _We_ had the situation in hand," said Jaheira. She stepped towards Eldoth who calmly raised an eyebrow at her approach.

"Would you rather it had been someone else who had taken hold of Dorean?" the bard replied. "Him, perhaps?" he gestured with his head at the unconscious Raiken whose chain-mail shirt he was now removing. Jaheira's glare did not falter.

"Still more of 'em out there," Montaron said abruptly; he had picked up Raiken's war hammer and was now tying it diagonally onto his back next to his shortsword. "Includin' a drow."

"Where's Xzar?" asked Dorean, rubbing his chest.

"He told us to leave him and rescue you," Garrick answered, looking off into the trees.

"We should get to him, then," Dorean answered. He was looking anywhere but at Imoen, who was quietly staring down at him. "We're not out of this yet." He blinked and looked up as Khalid stepped forward and handed him a healing potion. "...thank you."

Khalid remained in place for a moment, staring forlornly down at the dwarf. He then gave a small smile, placed a hand on Dorean's shoulder, then nodded to Jaheira.

"Can you walk?" Jaheira asked.

"Yes," Dorean replied. He turned away from her and Imoen to follow Khalid who was now moving away. "I've taken worse than this."

"Hey," said Montaron.

Dorean turned just in time to catch his crossbow in both arms. He gave a loud grunt of pain, looked down at the weapon and then at the halfling.

"I told ye not to lose it," the assassin said emotionlessly. He held Dorean's gaze for a few seconds before turning away to follow Khalid.

The party began its journey back towards the camp, Khalid leading them at a brisk pace while keeping his tower shield raised and his head on a swivel.

Dorean and Imoen neither looked at nor spoke to each other; Imoen simply moved next to him, and he quickened his pace to stay abreast of her. Silent words passed between them, though their expressions did not change in the slightest.

"Would you like me to carry you again?" Eldoth suddenly asked from behind them.

"...no, thank you," Dorean answered, glancing over his shoulder at the bard who had Raiken in a fireman's carry. "You're burdened enough already."

"Very well. And, please accept my apologies for your beard."

"Accepted," Dorean replied, stealing a glance at Jaheira who was glaring at Eldoth like she wished to burn him to death with her mere gaze.

..

* * *

A grisly sight greeted the party upon their arrival in the area where Imoen had located the battling half-elves and Garrick; all six of the then-remaining Blacktalon mercenaries now lay dead with their eight other comrades. From the looks on their faces, their deaths were not pleasant.

Khalid's eyes lingered on the spot where he had been hit by the Horror spell, and he gave a quick, light shake of his head before resuming his lookout for any danger.

"Your partner is efficient, I will grant him that," Eldoth said to Montaron.

"Not so," the halfling replied, walking over to the two men who had chased Imoen. He drew his knife and stabbed them both in the neck. "He left these two breathin'." He glanced briefly at Imoen who had closed her eyes and turned away.

"I don't see him," said Garrick. "Do you think he's-"

"Movement," Khalid hissed.

The party all raised their weapons at the sound of numerous rustling plants, save for Montaron who had already disappeared from sight. Khalid and Jaheira moved to the front and sides of the party with shields raised.

Jessa Vai appeared with mace and shield in hand, followed by nearly two dozen Flaming Fist mercenaries. She regarded the party silently for a moment before signalling orders to her men; they fanned out in groups of four, with three men remaining behind with her.

"The reinforcements I requested have arrived," Vai said shortly. "They've brought supplies and medicine."

Nobody in the party moved. Vai's expression and voice were like granite. She turned her head to the left to survey the dead Blacktalon mercenaries, accentuating the fresh scars on her temple.

"Nice work," she said, turning back to the party and looking at Raiken. "Who's that?"

"One Lieutenant Raiken of the Blacktalon company, my lady," Eldoth replied, stepping forward and depositing the unconscious officer at her feet. Imoen winced as Raiken's face impacted with the ground.

"I see," said Vai. "And where are the other two? The halfling and wizard?"

Dorean and Imoen exchanged glances.

"You don't know," Vai answered for them.

"W-what is this?" asked Khalid, looking around. Half of the Flaming Fist mercenaries were now appearing to secure the area.

The rest had surrounded the party.

Jessa Vai slowly returned her mace to her hip.

"Dorean of Candlekeep," she announced gravely. "You are under arrest."


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

From the moment Jessa Vai had appeared, Dorean knew. Her expression told him everything.

 _Twenty-five in total. Five robes, five holy symbols._

 _No openings, no means of escape._

A cold realization set in.

 _There's no way out of this._

Time slowed, every sound muffled and distorted.

He looked around him at all of his companions, save one.

Jaheira had planted her quarterstaff firmly in the ground and was exchanging harsh words with Vai, her voice growing louder with every syllable. Garrick had placed himself between them in a seemingly futile attempt to quell their rising tempers.

Eldoth had slowly backed away from the unconscious Raiken at Vai's feet and was now standing silently off to the side. He noticed Dorean's gaze and gave an apologetic shrug and tilt of his head. The dwarf gave a small nod of understanding.

He then turned away and froze.

Khalid had placed himself directly in front of the dwarf, sword and shield raised in open defiance of the two dozen mercenaries all around them. Dorean stared up at his grim, resolute expression.

Time returned to normal.

Dorean reached up and placed a firm hand on Khalid's elbow. The man did not budge. The dwarf blinked, then frowned and forcibly pushed past him.

He ignored the half-elves calling out his name, removing and dropping his pack, crossbow, and knives as he went over to Vai. She watched him stonily as he stopped directly in front of her and presented his hands.

A hush descended on the forest.

Vai then removed a pair of shackles from her belt and placed them around Dorean's small wrists. The sound of the locks clicking into place echoed off the trees.

Dorean remained still as Vai used a second set of shackles to secure his legs. He did not look back at the party.

"Someone carry him," Vai ordered, pointing at the unconscious Raiken. "Half of you with me. The other half stay here with them for ten minutes, then escort them back to the camp. Detour and bring them in by the east side."

"Lieutenant?" one of the mercenary-clerics said questioningly.

"You heard me, Sergeant," Vai replied. "And stay vigilant. The two Zhents are still out there."

Dorean glanced up at Vai as she looked at the party and then turned around. He stumbled as one of the mercenaries shoved him in the back of the head, and quietly shuffled forward to follow her.

He felt Imoen's eyes following him out of sight. She had fallen silent the instant Vai appeared and had remained so throughout his arrest.

For that, he was grateful.

..

* * *

The camp was now teeming with Flaming Fist. They moved swiftly and diligently in groups of four or more, setting up perimeters, carrying crates and seeing to the dead and wounded. Dorean counted ten new wagons and coaches, along with around thirty horses. Travellers and Flaming Fist mercenaries stood in lines at the back of the wagons, unloading and carrying off crates of supplies and medicine.

Vai led her men steadily through the camp, and many passersby stopped to look at the shackled dwarf and unconscious Black Talon. Eventually, they arrived at a large, dark red tent the size of a cottage. The Flaming Fist symbol was proudly emblazoned on all eight sides of the octagon structure.

The two sentries at the entrance saluted Vai as she marched in. The mercenary carrying Raiken followed her, and a second shove to the back of his head prompted Dorean to do the same.

 _Remain calm_. _Breathe easy. Watch. Read._

Halting before an expensive-looking desk, Vai stood to attention and saluted. The officer sitting behind it slowly rose to his feet and pushed back his chair.

 _Male, mid-to-late twenties. Tall, broad-shouldered. Heavy plate armour, well-maintained and polished. Dark hair and beard, both cut and trimmed. Dark blue eyes._

Dorean glanced at the steel kite shield leaning against one of the desk legs, noting the Flaming Fist symbol on it. He then glanced at the mundane shields of Vai and Raiken's carrier.

Keeping his hands clasped behind his back, the officer slowly rounded the desk, ignoring Vai's salute. He walked past her to stand directly in front of Dorean and Raiken's carrier.

"This is him?" he said, staring coldly down at and towering over the dwarf.

"Yes, sir," Vai replied, remaining at attention and not turning around.

"And this?"

"Blacktalon Lieutenant, sir," Vai answered. "He was captured by the dwarf and his companions."

"Come again?"

"The dwarf and his companions, sir." Vai's tone was mechanical, uncannily similar to Kagain's when he was speaking to Kelddath. "They left the camp, attacked the Blacktalons and captured him."

Silence fell.

"And where are these 'companions'?"

"In the woods, sir, with a dozen of my men."

" _Your_ men?"

Vai straightened and did not speak. The officer slowly turned around and moved to stand in front of her. Dorean glanced briefly at Raiken's silent carrier.

"The Zhents?" said the officer.

"Missing, sir," Vai answered.

Silence fell again. The man's dark blue eyes narrowed as he scrutinized his subordinate. Then, his steel-shod boots echoing loudly off the ground, he slowly moved back behind the desk and sat down.

"The dwarf attempted to flee. You pursued him into the woods where you encountered and routed a Blacktalon force, capturing their officer as well as the dwarf. You left half of your men behind to secure the area for the caravan's passage and prevent any future ambushes. Is that correct?"

Vai hesitated. The officer's eyes narrowed.

"Is that an accurate summary of your report, _Lieutenant?_ "

"Yes, sir," Vai answered.

"Very good," the officer replied. "You will be commended for your actions and your leadership, Lieutenant. Your superiors and family will be pleased."

"Yes, sir."

"The caravan will be leaving at dawn. Secure the prisoners and get some rest. You have earned it."

"Yes, sir."

"Dismissed."

Vai saluted, then turned and marched out of the tent with Dorean and Raiken's carrier to meet the escort waiting outside.

Her expression remained the same as she led them through the camp and to a large, rectangular cage designed for quadrupedal creatures.

As Raiken was unceremoniously tossed in, Dorean deliberately locked eyes with Vai before he was shoved inside as well. He turned around, maintaining eye contact as the padlock was secured.

Her expression faltered for a half-second before it returned to stone, and after assigning one man as a guard, she marched away with the remaining eleven.

Dorean watched her out of sight before kicking Raiken's arm away and sitting down. He drew his knees to his chest, crossed his shackled arms over his legs, and leaned back against the bars.

He thought of Imoen and Khalid, left back in the woods with a dozen mercenaries including two mages and three clerics, and his expression turned blank.

 _If they're dead, Jessa, I promise I will look up that family of yours._

..

* * *

Glancing up at the cracks of light emitting through the ceiling of the passenger coach, Dorean deduced that it was now early morning. From the sounds of the wheels, the caravan had returned to the road. Despite the early hour, the travellers outside had begun their fourth song, their spirits and confidence bolstered by the Flaming Fist.

Dorean glanced around at the half-dozen Fist mercenaries sitting with him, all of whom were dressed in full armour and had their helmets on despite the heat and discomfort of the coach interior.

 _Seems they've taken over the caravan. Wonder what happened to Kagain; I haven't seen any of his people._

Dorean slowly leaned back against the wall of the coach, wincing at the lingering pain of his partially-healed wounds; every part of his body ached and protested at the slightest movement, and forcing himself to spend the remainder of the night in the cage wide awake had not improved matters.

There was a murmur next to him, and he turned to see Raiken finally starting to stir.

 _About time. I thought the Black Talons were supposed to be tough. Just how hard did Eldoth hit him?_

With a loud groan, Raiken reached up to rub his head. He blinked upon seeing his shackled hands and looked around.

"Where in the hell am I?"

"You're our prisoner, bandit," the man sitting closest to them answered, his voice distorted by his full-face helmet. "Now be silent."

His lip curling, Raiken glared insolently at the half-dozen mercenaries. His eyes then widened in surprise upon seeing Dorean next to him.

"And what do we have here?" he drawled.

Dorean blinked quietly at him. Raiken sneered.

"Looks like the Flaming Fist have changed their mind about you after all, friend. And I was wondering why they would protect you."

Dorean looked away.

"You and your friends owe me twenty men, dwarf," Raiken said threateningly, leaning in close to Dorean who did not budge. "And I intend to collect, one way or ano- _gurk!_ " He reeled back as the nearest mercenary slammed an elbow into his gut.

"I said be silent."

Raiken spent a minute doubled-over and wheezing before looking up.

"You'll pay for that," he growled hatefully, looking around the wagon. "All of you. Khosann'll line you up and take your heads off with one damn swing of his hammer." He grinned toothily. "I know; I've seen it happen. You're all going to regret you-"

The next blow struck Raiken directly between the eyes. He slumped back in his seat and went limp.

Shaking and rubbing his hand, the mercenary glared at Dorean who calmly returned his gaze.

"May I have some water, please?"

The man exchanged a look with his fellow mercenaries before removing and handing a water-skin to him.

"Thank you."

Dorean took a modest sip, handed back the water-skin with a nod of gratitude, then quietly lowered his head and clasped his hands together on his lap.

 _Wherever she may be, Morning Lord, keep Imoen safe._

He hesitated for a long moment.

A _nd_ _Khalid as well._

He pretended to pray further as he studied the shackles binding his wrists and ankles.

..

* * *

Raiken mercifully remained unconscious for the remainder of their journey.

A few hours passed before the coach slowed to a stop and the mercenaries opened the rear door and ordered him out.

A grey, overcast sky and noon sun greeted Dorean, along with a flurry of activity; all around him, travellers, merchants and mercenaries were setting up tents and makeshift shelters.

As Raiken was unceremoniously dragged out by his feet, Dorean looked around at the walls, gatehouse and castle, the last of which barmaids were bringing out tables and chairs into the grounds.

 _The Friendly Arm._

He scanned the crowds as the mercenaries attempted to slap the Blacktalon officer back to consciousness. An involuntary breath caught in his throat as he spotted a pink-clad figure; Imoen was standing a short distance away with Khalid, Jaheira, Garrick and Eldoth.

Their eyes met just before he was roughly booted in the back. Dorean reluctantly allowed himself to be led to a guard house at the southern wall.

Several more Flaming Fist mercenaries awaited them in the clean, spacious lobby, including the blue-eyed officer. He stood in the centre of the room, feet spread apart and arms clasped firmly behind his back.

Moving slowly due to their shackled ankles, Dorean and Raiken were both shoved forward into the lobby, the latter glaring at his escort while the former passively ignored them. They stopped several paces away from the officer who regarded them in silence. Dorean glanced around, uneasiness rising as he realized that none of the Friendly Arm's own guards were anywhere in sight.

"Well?" said Raiken. "Are you going to say something, or just stand here and admire us?"

The officer's expression did not change. He turned his head very slightly, his gaze moving to the mercenary standing next to the Black Talon.

The hard punch to Raiken's gut brought him to his knees. Dorean calmly glanced at him, his expression stoic.

"My name is Captain Benjamin Farrahd," the officer said over Raiken's pained gasps. "You two are now under my care." He gestured with his chin to Raiken, and the two mercenaries behind the Black Talon hoisted him roughly to his feet. "Lieutenant Raiken, I have made an arrangement with your commander, Taugosz Khosann. Tomorrow morning, you will be brought east and returned to him. And you, dwarf, will be taken to Baldur's Gate. I trust that there won't be any trouble from either of you. Should you betray my trust, I have healers who will ensure that what will be done to you will _not_ leave a mark."

Farrahd paused for a moment, allowing his threat to sink in. No one spoke; even Raiken had ceased coughing.

"Do you have any questions?"

Raiken glared with open and burning hatred, but remained silent.

"I would like to know what I am being charged with," said Dorean.

Farrahd lifted his chin, gazing past his nose down at the little dwarf. Dorean remained very still, quietly meeting his eyes.

"You already know," Farrahd said coldly. "Unless you have not seen the warrants that have been publicly issued for your arrest." He paused, fixing the calm, stoic dwarf with his dark blue eyes. "But I suppose it is not your fault that Lieutenant Vai neglected to inform you. Dorean of Candlekeep, you are charged with murder, thievery, and suspected involvement in the disappearance of Entar Silvershield's first son. It is preferred that you be brought in alive, but there will be no penalty if you are brought in dead."

Dorean deliberately hesitated before nodding. "Will I be allowed to defend myself against these charges?"

Farrahd blinked, and for a moment, his cold, in-control demeanour seemed to falter. "That is not for me to decide. You will find out soon enough, once I hand you over to my superiors."

Dorean nodded again. "Very well, Captain."

Farrahd frowned at him for a moment before looking up at his men. "Take them down to the cells." He paused as the two prisoners were led past him to an open doorway. "And see to his wounds," he added, pointing at the dwarf.

..

* * *

Bentley Mirrorshade took a moment to close his eyes and breathe deeply before knocking on the double doors to the royal suite.

It opened to reveal Khalid, his nod and smile clearly strained.

The innkeeper hesitated before stepping to the side and waving in the barmaids. Sensing the atmosphere within the suite, they served the dishes in silence before bowing and filing out. Bentley watched them leave before closing the door and walking with Khalid to join the others at the table, which along with Jaheira and Imoen now included Ajantis, Garrick, and Eldoth, the last of whom was the only one in the group who was neither grimy nor bloodied.

"I heard about what happened," Bentley said softly. "Ya alright, kid?"

Imoen nodded without moving her gaze from the table. She was a pitiful sight, her shoulders slumped and her dirty, unkempt hair partially obscuring her eyes. Her clothing was covered in dirt, dried blood, leaf fragments and small twigs.

"You need to eat, child," said Jaheira, her voice firm yet not unkind.

Slowly, Imoen took up her knife and fork, transferred a chicken leg to her plate, and began to cut a slice. The rest of the party exchanged looks before they silently began to tuck into their meals. The entire scene was so depressing that Bentley momentarily looked away.

"...I, ah, wanted to ask," he said to Ajantis. "How is your friend? Lord Witton, was it?"

"He will live," the squire replied shortly. Bentley tilted his head; the young man appeared more angered than saddened or depressed. After a moment, Ajantis sighed and turned to face the gnome. "I apologize for my rudeness, sir."

"No harm done, kid," Bentley replied kindly, patting him on the back of his steel breastplate. He glanced over at Khalid and Jaheira who had seated themselves on either side of Imoen; she had settled her knife and fork on the table after eating only one slice of chicken.

"I suppose we could follow them to the city," said Garrick. "I know people who could help us prove his innocence, maybe build a defence for him."

"Defence?" said Eldoth. "Entar Silvershield's word is the law of this land. I doubt there would even be a trial for our friend. Not an actual one, anyway."

Imoen's head lowered further until her chin touched her chest. Khalid placed a hand on her shoulder while Jaheira glared at Eldoth who leaned back and raised his hands.

Bentley wisely decided not to agree with Eldoth out loud. He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, glancing again at Khalid and Jaheira, neither of whom had taken their eyes off the despondent girl.

Garrick looked around the table, rubbing his hands together. "We _could_ bribe them to let him go."

Bentley let out a low hiss. "Ah. I wouldn't do that if I were ya. The Fist do not take kindly to bribes."

"There has to be something we can do," said Ajantis. His right hand curled into a fist on the table. "There _has_ to be."

Bentley glanced at Imoen and the Harpers before facing Ajantis and placing his hands on his hips. "I'm sorry to tell ya this, lad, but if you're thinkin' what I think ya thinkin', ya need to stop. I cannot allow any violence in the Friendly Arm."

"I-I never meant anything of the sort!"

"It's alright, kid," Bentley said reassuringly, patting the squire on the back again. "Still," he added with a pointed look at Jaheira. "Are yas really gonna make an enemy of the Flaming Fist?"

"They struck first," Jaheira answered her voice cold and dispassionate. "As far as I am concerned, they already are."

Bentley stiffened, then looked appealingly to her husband. He dismayed upon seeing the hardened resolve in Khalid's eyes.

"Jaheira..." the gnome began pleadingly.

The doors to the suite swung open and Kagain stomped in.

"Hey, Bentley," he said pleasantly.

Everyone looked at the dwarf as he crossed the room, seated himself at the table, and pulled an entire plate of honey-glazed ham towards himself. He ignored the knife and fork next to his plate, instead using his bare hands.

A few minutes passed in silence save for Kagain's eating.

"Are you alright?" asked Garrick.

"Hmh?" said Kagain, his mouth full.

"We heard you were caught in a trap-spell," the bard hesitantly explained.

"Oh, that. Yeah, I'm okay," Kagain answered. He reached over and grabbed a chicken leg.

"You look more than 'okay,' now that you mention it," Eldoth commented with a tilt of his head; the dwarf indeed looked perfectly healthy for a man who had been only a few paces away from a detonated Skull Trap.

"It's nothin', forget about it," Kagain said dismissively.

"Why are you here, Kagain?" Jaheira asked sternly.

"You guys seen Benjy?" said the dwarf. He tore the chicken leg in two, and Ajantis leaned back as a chicken bone flew past his face.

"Who?"

"Benjy. Benjamin Farrahd. The Fist captain who led the reinforcements here." Kagain paused to take a bite of chicken. "The one who ordered Vai to arrest the nugget."

Jaheira glanced at Imoen. "We have seen him."

"Real uptight guy, ain't he, Bentley?" Kagain said cordially.

"Well..." the gnome said hesitantly, reluctant to bad-mouth his guests. "He certainly takes himself very seriously."

Kagain smirked and grunted.

"And what does he have to do with why you are here now?" asked Jaheira.

"Aside from him arrestin' ya boy, he's also taken my contracts for escortin' the caravan."

The room fell silent save for Kagain chewing nosily on a particularly thick slice of mutton.

"And...you are unhappy about this," Eldoth said slowly.

"Mm. A little," Kagain replied. His voice and expression were calm, relaxed and pleasant.

Bentley realized that everyone else, including himself, had become very still and even appeared to be holding their collective breath. Garrick and Eldoth were both now leaning back in their seats away from the dwarf.

"So anyway," Kagain said, wiping his hands on the table-cloth. "I'm gettin' the nugget out."

Imoen looked up at him. Kagain ignored her, turning in his seat. "Hey, Bentley. Draw out a thousand from my stash. It's yours now."

Bentley blinked at Kagain's pleasant tone and then nodded rapidly. The dwarf's beard lifted in a smile and he turned back to the party.

"The rest of ya need ta be gone from here by sundown. Head south; my guys'll be waitin' for ya on the road. I'll meet up with ya when I've gotten the nugget."

Grabbing a pint of ale, Kagain then promptly hopped from the chair, his boots impacting loudly with the wooden floor, and belched loudly.

"Thanks for the lunch. Be seein' ya."

He left the suite, and they heard him loudly humming a tune to himself as he moved down the hallway.

Swallowing nervously, Bentley looked around at the party, muttered a quick "Excuse me," and hurried after the dwarf.

The double doors swung shut in the innkeeper's wake.

"Well," said Eldoth, glancing at Jaheira. "The enemy of our enemy is our friend, it seems."

Jaheira stared stonily at him. Khalid glanced briefly at her before looking at Garrick and Ajantis. "W-w-well..."

"I'm going with you," said Ajantis.

"So am I," said Garrick.

They both looked at each other before turning back to Khalid, Jaheira and Imoen, all of whom were now staring at them.

"Lord Witton has been assigned a full escort of mercenary bodyguards," said Ajantis. "He no longer requires my services." He lifted his chin. "What was done to your friend Dorean is a grave injustice; if the Flaming Fist had any integrity, they should have..." He paused with a glance at Imoen. "They should have arrested him from the beginning, not blackmailed him into their service only to betray him afterwards." He looked down at the table, clenching and uncurling his mailed fingers. Eldoth raised an eyebrow at this.

"The Flaming Fist represent the law in this region, Ajantis," Garrick said, his tone unusually stern.

"...yes, they do," Ajantis replied. "But I was taught...that one must uphold not only the law, but to protect the helpless and the innocent." He paused, then lifted his head, his face resolute. "What about you, Garrick? Why do you wish to help us?"

The bard looked around the table, breathed deeply and then gave a shrug of his shoulders. "To tell you the truth..." he said hesitantly, looking at the half-elves. "I think I know why you two are here."

Jaheira frowned.

"You're headed to Nashkel to investigate the source of the crumbling iron, are you not?" Garrick asked.

Khalid and Jaheira glanced at each other. Imoen looked up at them and then at Garrick, blinking slowly.

"I want in," the bard declared.

Eldoth placed his elbow on the table and stroked his chin, silently regard his fellow minstrel. Khalid met Imoen's gaze.

"Imoen? W-what do you think?"

She quietly looked around at the three prospective party members, then lowered her gaze once more to the table.

"I just want my brother back," she said quietly.

Khalid gently patted her shoulder. Slowly, all eyes turned to Jaheira, awaiting her answer. She looked around at all of them, her gaze lingering on Eldoth.

"Imoen, Khalid and I will be leaving an hour before sundown. If you are not at the main gate by then, we will not wait for you."

There was a collective pause. Ajantis and Garrick both nodded. Eldoth smirked and stroked his chin again.

"This should be interesting."

The half-elves glared at him, and it was only due to Imoen's mood that they did not retort.

..

* * *

Glad to leave the crowded main area of the temple behind him, Ajantis paused to send a quiet prayer to Helm to watch over the departed souls of the lives lost in the caravan before he headed down a wide and low corridor. His sabatons echoed loudly off the stone floor, alerting the four Flaming Fist guards to his presence. None of them nodded, gestured or spoke in greeting, and Ajantis ignored their unfriendly stares as he marched past them into the room.

Bartholomew Witton was sitting up in the room's only bed, stirring a steaming bowl of soup on the tiny wooden tray-table over his lap.

"Milord," Ajantis greeted, bowing his head. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, I do not know, Ilvarstarr. How _does_ one normally feel after being poisoned and brought to the very brink of death?"

Ajantis smiled. Despite the man's sardonic answer, there was a lightness to his tone that suggested he was not nearly as prickly as he was letting on; his mood had improved dramatically since he had recovered and learnt of the reinforcements for the caravan.

"You ought to be more concerned for yourself, young man," said Witton, pointing at Ajantis with his spoon. "You look awful."

Ajantis looked down at himself; indeed, his usually-shiny armour was now covered in grime and dried blood.

His body then became acutely aware of the sleep and food it was lacking, and he spared a moment to close his eyes and breathe deeply before moving to the corner of the room where he had left his pack. Witton's brow furrowed as the squire double-checked his belongings.

"Are you going somewhere?"

"Yes, milord," Ajantis answered without looking up. "I am joining the freelance group."

Witton slowly lowered his spoon. "The people who helped us on the plain and then tried to convince me not to leave the camp?"

"The very same, milord."

Witton slowly looked away, and for a long moment, there was silence between the duo. Ajantis counted and measured his provisions, keeping his gaze on his pack.

The Amnian diplomat then slowly removed his spectacles and turned back to the squire.

"Ajantis," he said, and his voice was suddenly soft, no longer that of a pompous noble but of a man who had seen and experienced much despite being only thirty-six years old. "I have heard of your past...mishaps."

The squire ceased all movement, his hand gripping a whetstone.

"Lord Firecam told me." Witton paused. "Are you certain you are not making the same mistakes again?"

Ajantis remained still and quiet for a long moment. He then returned the whetstone to his pack and stood up, facing the wall.

"I cannot stand by and allow the Flaming Fist to commit such an injustice."

"Despite knowing that your actions may jeopardize my task to secure peace with Baldur's Gate?"

Ajantis did not hesitate.

"Yes, milord. Despite that."

Witton gazed with half-lidded eyes at the paladin's back. He then looked away and sighed.

"Lord Firecam also told me that you are impulsive; that once you resolve yourself to something, nothing could dissuade or deter you."

Ajantis remained silent, keeping his back to the diplomat.

"He says that it is one of your many admirable qualities. I, however, would call it a flaw." Witton paused. "At any rate, it seems your mind is made up. I hope you will understand that if you do commit a rash and foolish action, that I will disavow and deny all knowledge and responsibility of it."

"I understand," Ajantis replied firmly.

"So be it, then," Witton said haughtily, picking up his spoon and soup. "Go defend the helpless and protect the innocent. Leave me to do the important work."

Ajantis shouldered his pack, turned and bowed to the diplomat. "I will pray to Helm for your success and safe return to Amn, milord."

"I would save that prayer for myself if I were you," Witton retorted. "I have a feeling that you will need it more than I will."

Ajantis smiled, bowed again and then left the room, ignored the unfriendly looks from the four Flaming Fist mercenaries as he strode back down the corridor.

..

* * *

Glancing up at the crescent moon in the night sky, Kagain made one more sweep of the grounds from his position at the bottom of the steps to the inn's front entrance. He sneered at the distant sounds of laughter drifting through the open doors above and behind him.

"Nothin' like a night of free food and drinks ta keep a buncha Fist happy, eh, Maija?" He spat off to the side.

"Humph. Less of 'em for me to kill, I say," Maija replied. "They'll be emptying the inn's wine cellars at this rate." She imitated Kagain's spit onto the ground.

"Bentley ain't got a right to gripe, not with what I'm payin' 'im," Kagain replied. "Alright, let's go." He set off at a casual pace towards the guardhouse.

"You sure it's a good idea to send everyone else off, boss?" Maija asked, following close behind him.

"What, think ya can't handle it on ya own?"

"I'm not saying that," the female mercenary bristled. "I'm just saying there's a ton of Fist here. We could use some backup."

"Bentley an' Gellana are all the backup we need. Now shut ya mouth, we're almost there."

Maija frowned, but obediently fell silent.

The two Dented Shields mercenaries marched straight into the guardhouse lobby and made a beeline for the far door. The Friendly Arm guards in the building all averted their eyes at their approach, pretending not to notice them as they passed. Maija nevertheless kept a hand on her axe, shooting threatening looks at every one of them.

As they approached the door leading to the cellblock, the sentry standing next to it unlocked it and then stepped aside, turning his head away. Kagain ignored him while Maija glowered.

"Alright," said Kagain as they moved down the line of empty cells. "We get 'im an' walk out the front gate."

"Just like that?" Maija said sceptically.

"Jus' like that. Nothin' fancy, nothin' complicated," Kagain replied. "I'm always tellin' ya meat-heads, it's best ta keep it sim-"

They both stopped.

Two cell-doors stood open before them, in front of which lay the bodies of Raiken and the gnome jailer. Ceramic fragments were scattered on the floor around them, along with bread crumbs floating in the pools of blood and gruel.

"Ah, shit," Maija hissed.

They both rushed forward, Kagain to the cell doors and her to the bodies.

"He's gone," Kagain growled.

"And they're dead," said Maija.

"Where the soddin' hell did he go?"

"Never mind that, we need to get the hell out of here before-"

"Before what?" asked a voice from behind them.

Maija spun around and drew her axe.

Farrahd was standing in front of the doorway, arms crossed over his breastplate. Eight Flaming Fist mercenaries lined up behind him with weapons and shields raised.

Kagain did not turn around. He straightened and then went very still, staring straight ahead.

"I'm sorry, Kagain," said Bentley, slowly entering the cell block and holding his hat at his side.

"Do not be, Master Mirrorshade," Farrahd said sternly. "You are aiding us in the apprehension of the accomplices of a dangerous criminal." He turned to one of his men. "Raise the alarm. I want everyone searching the castle and the surrounding area _immediately_."

The mercenary swiftly saluted and left, leaving Farrahd with Bentley and his remaining seven men.

"Drop your weapons," Farrahd ordered. "And you may yet be shown mercy."

Maija did not lower her axe. She glanced at her boss, who still had not moved.

"Do not make the mistake of thinking I will hesitate to kill you, Shield," Farrahd declared. "Your connections won't save you here."

Kagain lifted his head slightly. "Is that right, Benjy?"

"Yes," Farrahd answered, his eyes gleaming and his jaw set in a hard grimace. "Now, for the last time, drop your weapons."

"...alright, Benjy," Kagain replied.

The dwarf then whirled around and hurled one of his throwing axes at the officer's face.


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

Farrahd's narrowed eyes widened to saucers as they focused on the axe spiralling towards him. He threw himself sideways and the blade slashed his left cheek, tore into his ear and embedded itself in the shoulder of the man behind him.

The other mercenaries gazed at their two fallen comrades for a split-second before looking up to see Kagain speeding bare-handed towards them, an empty vial falling behind him.

He closed the distance between them in the blink of an eye. Without reaching for a weapon, Kagain raised an arm to block the foremost mercenary's strike at his head. The blade tore into his chain-mail and cut _deep_. He ignored it and swung his heavy steel-shod boot. There was a _**crack**_ and the man howled, his sword clattering on the stone floor as he fell clutching at his knee.

"Hold him-!" one of them yelled.

Kagain looked up and snarled, his beard parting to expose his teeth as the next mercenary in front of him readied a Hold Person spell. He had nearly finished casting when Maija smashed headlong into him, her axe nearly jarring the hastily-raised small shield out of his right hand.

Kagain wasted no time. Turning back to the fallen merc at his feet, he reached down and grabbed a handful of blonde hair. The mercenary screamed, still clutching at his broken leg, as Kagain pulled the man in front of him and pressed a throwing axe to his throat.

 _"Benjy!"_ he bellowed.

Farrahd, his hand clamped over his ear, had retreated behind three of his men. The other two had dragged their wounded comrade to the rear and were now attempting amidst his cries of protest to remove the throwing axe buried deep in his shoulder. The Flaming Fist captain reacted instantly upon seeing Kagain and his hostage.

"Stand down!"

The five remaining mercenaries froze, their eyes darting to their leader.

"I said stand down! That's an order!"

Swords were lowered and half-cast spells halted. The standing Flaming Fist mercs all retreated a few steps, their eyes fixed on Kagain.

"That's right," the dwarf growled. "Get back an' stay back."

"Kagain," Bentley's strained voice called from behind the Flaming Fist. "Think about what y-"

"Shut up! _Shut ya sodding mouth!"_

Silence struck the cell block. Kagain's hostage gasped for breath as the dwarf tightened the grip around his neck.

"Everybody out," Farrahd said calmly.

"Sir..."

"You heard me, Private." Without taking his eyes off of Kagain, Farrahd pointed behind him at the axe-wounded mercenary who now appeared to be on the verge of losing consciousness. "Take him to the temple. And tell everyone to stay back."

Kagain's eyes darted to each of the six mercenaries in turn, watching them leave and listening to their receding footsteps. He spotted Bentley through the open doorway to the cell block. The innkeeper's eyes lingered on the bodies of Raiken and the gnome jailer, and he returned Kagain's baleful glare with a blank, half-lidded look before silently following the mercenaries.

Bentley's soft footsteps slowly faded away, leaving Farrahd alone in the cell block with the Dented Shields and their hostage.

"C-Captain..."

"It's going to be alright, Dilos," Farrahd said, his voice stern and calm. His hand remained clamped over what was left of his ear; dark red blood flowed past his fingers, staining his collar.

"Back up," Kagain growled. Farrahd grimly obeyed, stepping backwards through the doorway to the cell block.

Kagain heard a pained cough to his left. His beard twitched, but he did not take his eyes off of Farrahd.

"Get up, Maija."

More coughing and hacking answered.

"Get ya ugly ass up before I leave ya here."

There was silence for several seconds, then more agonized breathing. He heard Maija moving behind him and felt her left hand on his shoulder as she leaned against him for support. He ignored her and kept his eyes on Farrahd.

"We're walkin' outta here," the dwarf snarled. "One spell, one arrow, one soddin' pebble gets tossed our way, an' ya will be seein' a lot more'a ya boy. Ya have my word on that."

Farrahd said nothing. He returned Kagain's menacing glare with his own, his jaw set in a hard grimace.

Kagain shoved Dilos forward, and the latter cried out in agony as he was forced into a one-legged crabwalk. Farrahd walked backward, one hand at his side and the other kept over his torn ear as the dwarf and his hostage slowly moved through the guardhouse, Maija grunting and snarling behind them. She gave a loud cough, and Kagain felt the spatter of blood on the back of his helmet. He continued to ignore her, focusing on the Flaming Fist captain.

The night sky greeted them as they exited, along with the stares of numerous onlookers, Friendly Arm guards and over two dozen Flaming Fist long-bows. They all followed Kagain and Maija to the front gates.

As they reached the drawbridge, Kagain spotted Vai standing near a wall-mounted torch. Like Bentley, her expression was cold and grim. Kagain glowered at her and growled inarticulately, and Dilos closed his eyes as the throwing axe pressed further against his throat.

They were halfway across the drawbridge when Farrahd called to them from beneath the raised portcullis.

"That's far enough! Release him!"

Kagain halted, his eyes darting to the numerous bows still trained on him. "So ya can shoot us down like dogs?!" He yelled back. "We're takin' him!"

Farrahd's eyes blazed as he stepped forward, and his fellow mercenaries flinched back from him as he suddenly **roared**. "I promise you, Shield, if you do not release him _right now_ , I will make it my _life's mission_ to make yours a living hell! Then I will do the same to _every single one_ of your _pathetic band_!"

Both mercenary leaders stood on the wooden drawbridge, blue eyes glaring fiercely at each other.

"Release him!" Farrahd barked. "Now!"

For a long moment, the entire Friendly Arm was quiet, all eyes on the dwarf and his hostage.

Then, his beard lifting in a sneer, Kagain slowly moved his throwing axe from Dilos' throat.

"Screw all'a ya," the dwarf whispered.

He grabbed the back of Dilos' collar, hurled him off the drawbridge into the moat, then whirled around, scooped Maija up in his arms bridal-style and ran.

"After them!" Farrahd shouted. _"I want both their heads!"_

Arrows fell around Kagain. One slammed into his back. He ignored it and kept running.

..

* * *

Kagain turned down a bend in the road and plunged straight into the woods, aiming for dense vegetation. Branches sliced across his helmet and tore at his face, beard and chainmail. He held Maija close against his broad chest, shielding her head with his arm. Behind him, the thundering of hoof-beats partially stopped with a chorus of neighs, while a remainder of them continued. He grinded his teeth as he heard the horses galloping past him far off to his left.

He felt the blood trickling from Maija's side onto his chest, heard her ragged breathing against his chest, and knew that her lung had been punctured.

 _Sodding Fist and their sodding enchanted blades._

He heard the _twang_ of a longbow behind him and veered to the right. The arrow tore through his chainmail into his left shoulder. He gritted his teeth and kept running, plunging into the thickest vegetation and zig-zagging around trees.

A second _twang_ , and another arrow joined the one already in his back. He neither slowed nor faltered.

"Think I don't know what ya doin'?" He growled, leaping clear over a boulder. "Think I'm an idiot, I'm stupid, I'm gonna run into ya ambush?"

Twenty-six minutes; the amount of time that had passed since he drank the Potion of Agility.

He had less than five minutes before it wore off, and they knew it as well. His bushy eyebrows came together in a frown, and he snarled through his gritted teeth.

He plunged into more thick shrubbery, stopped and dropped Maija, then turned around, ignoring the branches cutting his face.

Five enforcers, one battle wizard and one Helmite cleric. None of them wielding bows, which meant the archer or archers were out of sight.

Cricking his neck, Kagain drew his heavy crossbow, thumbed off its safety and brought it to his shoulder. He waited until the nearest enforcer was barely ten paces away and fired. The bolt sped past the man and struck the battle wizard in the shoulder, spinning him around in a circle before sending him to the ground.

Kagain burst out of the thick bushes. Seeing the empty crossbow in his arms, the two nearest enforcers leapt forward to attack. Their eyes widened in surprise as the crossbow's bayonet clicked into place and Kagain lunged forward, stabbing the first man through his plate-mail into the stomach, wrenching the blade free and then slashing the second man across both thighs.

As the two mercenaries fell, Kagain hurled the crossbow like a javelin at the next enforcer's head. Instead of raising his shield, the man quickly ducked down to one knee, realized that he had given Kagain a clear line-of-sight to their cleric, and looked up as the crossbow flew overhead in time to see Kagain's throwing axe strike the cleric just as she raised her hands to launch a spell. Fingers fell as she screamed and clutched her hands to her chest.

Kagain's beard suddenly jerked up as a dagger stabbed into the back of his thick neck. With a bestial snarl, the dwarf's left hand reached behind him, grabbing the Flaming Fist scout's wrist as it attempted to pull back for another stab, and his right hand drew and swung his flail. There was a _crunch_ and the scout cried out, dropping his bloody dagger and clutching his crushed right bicep.

A sword pierced Kagain's chest. The dwarf roared in fury as he released the scout and grabbed the blade with his bare hand. The enforcer, the one who had ducked his crossbow, leaped back as Kagain pulled it free and hurled it into the man's raised shield.

The dwarf pressed his attack, charging and swinging the flail in a circle over his head. The man leapt back, keeping his shield raised as the flail whirled closer and closer towards him.

An arrow struck Kagain in the small of his back, once again tearing straight through his chain-mail. The dwarf gritted his teeth and ignored it, focusing on the enforcer.

As he reached for a third throwing axe, the 'floating' sensation in his limbs suddenly began to fade.

The potion was wearing off.

Grinding his teeth behind his torn and bloodied beard, Kagain drew the throwing axe, spun around and hurled it. The second Flaming Fist scout nimbly leapt to one side to avoid it while simultaneously nocking another arrow.

A half-dozen Magic Missiles slammed into his helmet and left shoulder, denting the former and causing tiny fountains of blood to erupt from the latter. With a deafening roar, Kagain turned and hurled a fourth throwing axe at the battle wizard who was now sitting up against a tree. One of the enforcers leapt sideways and caught it on his shield before hitting the ground.

Kagain started towards him and then stumbled as yet another arrow joined the three already in his back. He bellowed as he turned to face the three mercenaries behind him, all of whom were keeping their distance; both scouts had moved behind the enforcer's raised shield, one hurriedly pouring a healing potion over his arm while the other grimly reloaded his longbow.

The dwarf's eyes moved to the cleric who had fallen to her knees in the dirt; she was only a handful of paces away. The trio darted to intercept him as he started towards her.

 _"Enough!"_

The Flaming Fist all froze. Kagain did not.

Reaching the cleric, he grabbed and pulled her up by her hauberk, wrapped his flail-wielding hand around her neck and pressed his last throwing axe to her chin. He then whirled around, forcibly pulling her with him, to see the enforcer, the one whose legs he had slashed with his bayonet, crouching behind a kneeling Maija with a knife at her throat.

Kagain froze for a few seconds, his blue eyes wide. He then bared his teeth and pressed the blade of his throwing axe further into the cleric's chin, drawing blood. The enforcer grimly mimicked him. Maija made no sound as blood trickled from her throat.

Nobody spoke. Everyone including the wounded mercs stared at Kagain, their eyes burning holes in him. He became acutely aware of his heavy breathing and his blood pooling on the ground beneath him.

Maija's eyes met his, and he paused upon seeing the quiet contempt in them, directed at no one but him. He stared at her, and for a brief moment, his throwing axe lowered very slightly from the cleric's chin.

The enforcer holding Maija suddenly went rigid, frozen in place. The other mercenaries' heads snapped to him as the wizard yelled "Scatter and t-"

Kagain's eye-lids suddenly became unbearably heavy. He released his hold on the cleric, his flail and throwing axe both bouncing off the ground as he (thankfully) fell onto his right side, the wing of his helmet stabbing into the dirt. His eyes slammed shut and his body began to relax in forced sleep.

 _No no no no no get up get up you have to_ _ **get up...**_

Something hit his face. His eye-lids twitched, but remained closed. It hit him again, harder, and his eyes flew open, His hand shot up at his assailant who swiftly pulled back.

"Can you walk?"

Kagain blinked a few times, his arm still out-stretched, before his vision cleared and he looked up at his rescuer with a sneer.

"I'll take that as a 'yes,'" a thoroughly filthy and bloodied Dorean replied emotionlessly, turning away to search the unconscious cleric. Kagain stared at him for a moment before looking around.

All nine Flaming Fist mercenaries now lay unmoving yet breathing on the forest floor, with the exception of the enforcer who had taken Maija hostage; he was now frozen in place, only his eyes moving, with his knife-wielding arm still held to a throat that was no longer there. Maija was sitting with her back against a tree, leaning forward and breathing raggedly. Her right hand clutched the hastily-bandaged wound in her side while the other gingerly touched the cut at her throat. Her eyes met Kagain's briefly, still filled with quiet contempt, before focusing on Dorean who removed a healing potion from the cleric's belt and tossed it to her.

"Drink it, quickly," Dorean ordered. "The second team will be here soon." He glanced at Kagain while moving to the unconscious battle wizard. "Where are the others?"

Kagain glared up at him for a moment before slowly pushing himself off the ground. His nose wrinkled at the foul stench emanating from Dorean; the younger dwarf was covered from head-to-toe in mud. "Rendezvous' near the crossroads," he answered, grunting and clutching his chest wound. "About six hours away."

Dorean nodded without looking at him, taking a scroll case from the wizard and tucking it into his shirt. He turned to address Maija and Kagain saw the knife-hilt sticking out of his left shoulder.

"We have to move now. Stay close."

The two mercenaries exchanged looks. Then, keeping one hand over her bandaged wound, Maija slowly lifted herself up off the ground. Kagain picked up and belted his flail, then looked up in time to catch his tossed crossbow. He stared after the gold dwarf who had already turned away and was lifting his hood over his head, then moved to support Maija. She shoved his hand away without looking at him, grimly stumbling after Dorean. Kagain scowled at her, then shouldered his crossbow and stomped after them, leaving the unconscious Flaming Fist mercenaries and puddles of his own blood behind.

..

* * *

The next several hours passed in silence. Dorean led the way, his hooded head on a slow and constant swivel while Kagain took up the rear with his heavy crossbow. The latter side-stepped a bush that Dorean had brushed by, grimacing at the foul-smelling mud smeared on its leaves. He then looked up at Maija who had stubbornly refused any offer of support throughout the entire journey. A few hours earlier, however, she had conceded to an offered water-skin from Dorean, only to choke after a few seconds of drinking and falling to her knees. Now she stumbled through the woods, her breathing slower and fainter. Dorean glanced back at her pale, perspiring face as she narrowly avoided tripping over a rock.

"How much further?" he asked, breaking the long silence.

"Nearly there," Kagain replied, his voice hoarse.

There was a faint rustling from up ahead. All three of them looked up, Dorean spinning around and raising a dagger.

Ten seconds passed with no movement or sound. Then Lene appeared from the shadows, followed by Ajantis and Eldoth.

"Thank Helm," the paladin breathed.

"They're hurt worse than me," said Dorean, lowering his dagger and gesturing to Kagain and Maija, who chose that moment to stumble forward into Lene's arms.

"What happened?" the half-orc exclaimed, grimacing at Maija's face against her shoulder. "She's burning up!"

Ajantis went over and placed a mailed hand to her forehead. "Fever," he said shortly, turning back to Dorean and Kagain. "The rest of us are nearby. Can you walk on your own?"

Dorean blinked up at him and then nodded. Ajantis nodded back and returned his gaze to Lene. "I will help carry her. Eldoth, could you lead these two to the clea-"

"I know where it is," Kagain said gruffly, stomping past them. Ajantis flinched and Eldoth's eyebrows rose at the five arrows in Kagain's back and shoulder.

With Dorean and Eldoth now taking up the rear, Kagain led the way as Ajantis and Lene painstakingly carried the unconscious Maija between them. Eventually, they emerged into a large clearing in the woods, where seven tents had been erected in a ring around a large campfire.

Garrick, Khalid and Jaheira were seated with several mercenaries at the campfire. Imoen was pacing around them; from the small, circular trail, she had doing so for at least a few hours.

All of them looked up and immediately stood upon seeing Kagain's group. Imoen flew past the mercenary leader, fell to her knees in front of Dorean and embraced him around his thin chest, narrowly avoiding his dagger and ignoring his stench as well as the mud on his body.

The dwarf blinked and then said, "Imoen, I have a knife in my shoulder."

She pulled back immediately, her arms, clothing and right cheek now all smeared in mud as her alarmed eyes focused on the weapon.

"I'm alright," Dorean said, raising a hand as Jaheira started towards him. "She needs help right now," he added, jerking a thumb at Maija.

"Get her into a tent," Jaheira ordered. The mercenaries hesitated, looking to Lene and Kagain.

"Whatta ya standin' there for?!" said Kagain. "Get on it!"

A flurry of activity ensued as his men busied themselves, some aiding Jaheira, Lene and Maija while others went to rouse the ones who were asleep.

Kagain stood still in the midst of it all, watching as Maija was borne into the largest tent by Ajantis and Lene. He then looked at Dorean being led over to another tent by Khalid, Garrick and Imoen, the last of whom walked beside him with a hand on his unwounded shoulder in spite of the mud covering his clothes and body.

"Need one?" a voice asked. Kagain turned to see Eldoth standing next to him and holding out a healing potion. The dwarf looked at the vial, down at his blood now staining the ground of the campsite, then roughly slapped Eldoth's hand away.

"Just get someone ta get these damn things outta me," he growled, stomping over to sit at the campfire.

..

* * *

A half-hour passed until Jaheira, Ajantis and Lene finally emerged from the tent and announced that Maija's wound had been healed and her fever broken. By then, Dorean had been freed of his knife-wound, healed, and changed into clothing that apparently belonged to one of the mercenaries' nephews. He now sat quietly at the campfire in between Imoen and Khalid with the party, chewing on his third orange and listening to Kagain's account of the ill-fated rescue attempt at the Friendly Arm; the dwarven mercenary's tale was often interrupted with winces and complaints as each of the five broad-head arrows was carefully extracted from his back.

The sky had turned from black to dark blue by the time Kagain finished, and a glum silence settled over the campfire.

"So Bentley betrayed us," Lene said grimly.

"Yeah," Kagain replied. "Don't worry. We'll make that bastard pay."

Khalid stiffened and Jaheira, who was sitting on his other side from Dorean, placed a hand on his knee without looking at him.

"He seemed like such a nice person," Imoen said softly, gazing at her feet.

"He could have been coerced," said Jaheira. "Have you not considered that?"

"I don't give a warg's ass if he was," Kagain replied. "I nearly lost one'a my guys 'cos'a him."

"Do you intend to lay siege to the Friendly Arm, then?" Jaheira asked coolly.

Everyone looked at Kagain. He returned their gazes, his eyes lingering on the apprehensive expressions of his own men, before glowering at Jaheira and snatching up another beef sausage.

"Bentley Mirrorshade is...a friend of mine," Jaheira said, emphasizing the last three words. Kagain looked up at her with narrowed eyes. "We could speak to him and learn the truth, if the future would allow us to."

Kagain silently considered this, then promptly ignored Jaheira and turned to Dorean.

"You. You owe me an explanation."

Lowering his half-eaten orange, Dorean slowly looked up at the numerous gazes now focused on him. Imoen scooted closer to him, hugging him with one arm to her side. He frowned at her before closing his eyes and taking a deep, drawn-out breath.

"The jailer was bringing us our food. Raiken - the Blacktalon - grabbed him through the bars. The gnome, he...got out his knife. They struggled and Raiken stabbed him." Dorean slowly opened his eyes, his expression morose. "He took the keys, unlocked the cell and his shackles. Then he came at me."

"Why didn't you cry for help?" asked Ajantis. Dorean looked into the campfire.

"I was afraid. Froze up."

For a moment, there was little sound save for the mercenaries in the background eating, resting or checking their weapons and equipment.

"What happened then?" asked Jaheira.

"I tackled him as soon as he unlocked the door to my cell. We fell out into the corridor, he got me with the knife, and...I hit him with the porridge bowl." Dorean paused. "He kept holding onto the knife the whole time."

Kagain's mind recalled the two bodies in the cell block, covered in bread crumbs, gruel and ceramic fragments. Raiken's face had been smashed to an unrecognizable pulp.

"How'd ya get out?" he asked.

"I unlocked my shackles and snuck out of the cell block. Grabbed what I could and then..." Dorean closed his eyes and grimaced, baring his teeth. "Found and crawled through a latrine drain." He paused. "There's advantages to being small," he added with a mirthless smile. "The drain led out to the moat. I got out and ran. Heard the horsemen coming down the road and hid, followed them and found you." He looked at Kagain. "That's it."

His tale finished, Dorean leaned back, resting his temple against Imoen's shoulder. Kagain frowned at him.

"Never told me ya could cast spells."

Dorean hesitated, then reached into his shirt with one hand and held up two wands. Kagain's frown deepened.

"You had them with ya the whole time?"

"Couldn't reach for them with my shackles," Dorean replied tiredly. Kagain bristled.

"Where'd ya hide 'em then, up ya ass?"

"That's enough," said Khalid. Kagain's nostrils flared as he glared at the half-elf. Lene and the other nearby mercenaries tensed. Kagain then snorted, looked away and took another bite of sausage.

"Well..." Eldoth said with a smile at Dorean. "I am glad you are with us again."

"Indeed," said Xzar.

There was silence for a moment.

Then everyone jumped and turned to look at Xzar and Montaron sitting on either side of Eldoth who had suddenly gone very still but otherwise displayed no reaction, his smile at Dorean still in place.

"Where the _hell_ have ya been?!" Kagain shouted.

"How did you get past our lookouts?!" Lene demanded.

"Are you alright?" Imoen exclaimed.

"Been dodgin' Flamin' Fist for the last twenty hours," Montaron said to Kagain. "Stupid question," he said to Lene. "An' yeah, we're fine," he said to Imoen.

"You're both hurt!" Imoen protested, her eyes roaming over the Zhents' blood-stained clothes.

"No," said Jaheira. "It is not their blood."

Silence fell around the campfire for several seconds before Kagain turned to Lene.

"Get the boys outta here. An' set up more lookouts; I don't want the Fist or anythin' else creepin' up on us."

None of the mercenaries seemed to resent this order; they followed Lene away from the campfire, shooting furtive glances at the two Zhents.

"How long have the two of you been here?" Eldoth asked calmly.

"Long enough," Montaron replied. "Nice story," he added to Dorean. Khalid scowled at him.

Xzar leaned forward, drew a scroll from his robes and held it out to Dorean, who with the entire party (except Montaron) stared at Xzar's outstretched hand; it was completely covered in dried blood all the way to the wrist.

Xzar blinked. "Hm? Oh. Sorry." He gave a toothy, embarrassed smile and switched the scroll to his left hand.

Dorean and Imoen exchanged looks. The latter then slowly reached out, took the offered scroll, and unrolled it. The party watched the duo's faces fall as their eyes moved down the page.

"What is it?" asked Kagain in between a mouthful of roast chicken. Dorean and Imoen looked at each other again, their expressions solemn, before the gold dwarf slowly lowered the scroll.

"Another bounty notice," he answered. "For me and them," he pointed at Xzar and Montaron.

Kagain's eyes widened. Dropping his half-eaten chicken leg, he reached over and snatched the scroll out of Dorean's hand, earning a reproachful glare from Khalid.

"By decree of the Flamin' Fist and the Dukes of blah, blah, blah,'" Kagain read aloud. "The dwarf known as yadda yadda yadda...reward of three soddin' thousand if alive?" he looked up at Dorean and then back at the page. "An' for his as-yet-unidentified accomplices, a reward of five hundred each." He stared at the uncannily accurate facial sketches of Xzar and Montaron. "These two men are highly dangerous and are to be killed on sight." He paused, and a low, guttural growl escaped his beard. "Furthermore, it has come to light that the Dented Shield mercenary company has been assisting these criminals. Henceforth, this company is to be barred from receiving any and all contracts and is now under investigation by the Flaming Fist." His beard twitched and his fingers tightened on the parchment. "Signed an' sealed by all four Grand Dukes."

Silence fell. Kagain then ripped the scroll in half, hurled it into the fire and spat on it. He then snatched up his fallen chicken leg from the ground and viciously bit into it, ignoring the bits of leaf now attached to the meat.

"Someone in Baldur's Gate is very intent on killing you," Jaheira said to Dorean.

"But why?" asked Ajantis. "Why would anyone want you dead? Surely they do not believe you were involved in Lord Silvershield's disappearance? That was _seven years ago!"_

Dorean said nothing, his gaze moving to the burning notice in the fire. Imoen wrapped an arm around his back and Khalid gently patted his shoulder.

"Why us?" said Montaron. Jaheira looked at him with narrowed eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"Why us an' not you?"

Khalid and Jaheira both stiffened, glaring at the halfling.

"If I may hazard a guess," said Eldoth, lifting his finger slowly to avoid brushing against Montaron's blood-stained clothes. "It might be due to the Harpers having enough control in this region to protect their agents. After all, this is not Moonsea."

The half-elves' glares intensified. Eldoth lowered his hand. "It is only a guess," he said mildly.

"You told him?" Jaheira said, her cyan eyes boring into Montaron's.

"Already told 'im," Montarn replied, jerking a thumb at Kagain. "Might as well."

Khalid straightened as though to rise. Dorean placed a hand on his knee. The Calishite blinked, looked at him and then deflated, reluctantly glowering at the bored halfling and smiling wizard before taking another helping of roast chicken from the fire and offering it to Dorean.

"What now?" Dorean asked, gently waving a hand to refuse the offer. After a moment's silence, Kagain answered without looking up.

"Got people inna city. They'll be lookin' inta this."

"Could they help to withdraw the bounty?" asked Imoen.

"No," Kagain replied flatly. "My people have clout here, but this is from the top. The Dukes themselves." He paused. "Gonna take a lotta greased palms to make it happen, an' I doubt ya have the coin ta do it." He looked up and glared at Xzar and Montaron. "This was just supposed ta be a soddin' job in Nashkel."

"It still is," Montaron replied, his voice and expression suddenly turning cold.

"Not anymore," Kagain replied, standing up. "The two'a ya are wanted men now. That is _not_ part'a the deal."

"In case ye haven't noticed, we don't need ye to protect us."

"I don't give a _shit_ if ya need protection. So long as ya here, ya a risk to all'a us, to me an' my guys. An' if the risk goes up, the price goes up."

Montaron's black eyes narrowed to slits. He slowly leaned back in his seat and placed his hands on his thighs. Xzar however appeared to be ignoring the entire conversation and was staring at the side of Eldoth's head. Despite his calm demeanour, the bard was clearly leaning very slightly away from him.

"We helped ye with the caravan," Montaron growled.

"In case _ya_ haven't noticed, I ain't gettin' soddin' paid fer the thing," Kagain retorted.

"Ye blamin' us for that?" Montaron accused, his eyes flashing. Garrick stood up and stepped back from the group. Khalid and Jaheira both tensed with their hands on their weapons.

"Could we please not fight amongst ourselves?" Ajantis asked, his voice weary yet loud and firm. "We have enough to be concerned about as it is."

Kagain's eyes flicked to the Helmite and back to Montaron before he slowly sat down. "Ya want my help in Nashkel, the price is goin' up."

Montaron sneered at him before reaching over and taking a stick of roast chicken. "Fine. Whatever."

"What now?" Dorean asked quietly, keeping his hand on Khalid's knee as the man continued to watch the Zhents like a hawk.

"It is dangerous for us to return to Beregost," said Jaheira. "The Flaming Fist would have sent messengers ahead of us. We should skirt the town and continue south to Nashkel."

"Through the wilderness?" said Ajantis. "It is overrun with bandits and monsters. We will need to resupply first."

"And," said Eldoth, holding up his finger again. "There is someone waiting for me in Beregost. I need to meet with her."

"Who?" Montaron asked sharply. Eldoth did not miss a beat.

"A noblewoman from Baldur's Gate whom I have agreed to escort to Amn."

There was a moment's pause.

"Ditch her," said Montaron.

"Absolutely not," replied Eldoth. "I had given her my word that I would return to her after I had finished aiding the caravan. Which, it seems, the Flaming Fist will not be paying me for." He smirked at Garrick and the other freelancer shrugged in return. Eldoth then turned his gaze to the rest of the party. "If you must avoid Beregost, I am afraid this is where we must part company. What do you think?" He suddenly added to Dorean.

"What do I think?"

"You are the one who is at greatest risk, so your opinion deserves to be heard, does it not?" Eldoth asked, turning his smile onto Jaheira who sneered at him.

Everyone looked at Dorean. Imoen rubbed his back. He looked up at her for a few seconds before turning to Jaheira. "How is Maija?"

Kagain frowned at the realization that Dorean had deigned to remember her name.

"She is stable, but still in poor condition," Jaheira replied, her eyes half-lidded as she awaited Dorean's next words.

"Thank you," he said politely. "Her and Kagain were hurt because of me. If it were up to me, I would prioritize getting her further treatment."

"We c-cannot bring her to the S-Song of the Morning," said Khalid. "The Flaming Fist knows she is badly wounded. They will be w-watching the place."

"Kagain," said Dorean. "You know this area better than any of us. Is there anywhere close aside from Beregost where we could find healing and supplies?"

Kagain lowered his chicken leg as he returned Dorean's gaze. He then nodded slowly. "Yeah. A place west'a the town called High Hedge. Wizard by the name of Thalantyr owns it."

"I have heard of him," Xzar said idly.

"So have I," said Jaheira, though she gave the wizard an unfriendly glance. "It is said that he is not very welcoming to strangers."

"Would he help us?" asked Imoen.

"Yeah, but not for free," Kagain replied. "He owes me a favour, though."

"And," Dorean spoke up. "If necessary, a few of us could go into Beregost with Eldoth."

"We're not doin' that," Montaron said firmly. Eldoth raised an eyebrow at him.

"He saved my life, Montaron," Dorean said softly. "He stopped a Blacktalon from killing me. I owe him that."

"I don't care," Montaron retorted. "Me an' the wizard are goin' ta Nashkel, an' ye comin' wit' us. We're not stoppin' to meet with his latest con-job. We've wasted enough time with the bleedin' caravan."

"I agree with the little dwarf," said Xzar. He was still staring straight at Eldoth who was valiantly attempting to ignore him. "I say we meet with this man's noblewoman and hear what she has to say."

Montaron looked past Eldoth at him and sneered. "Oh. Sure. The madman's in favour of goin' into town." He stood up and brushed his clothing, sweeping dust and dried blood onto Eldoth's clean clothes. "Do what ye want, but I ain't comin' with ye ta Beregost." He turned to leave.

"Monty?" said Imoen. The halfling whirled on her with a pointed finger.

"I said don't call me-"

He stopped upon seeing the paper-wrapped bacon strips in Imoen's hand, looked up at her and then at the collective gazes of the rest of the party.

After a moment, Montaron huffed, snatched the food out of Imoen's hand and walked away.

"Do you have any water?" Imoen called after him. He ignored her.

"Were you not partners?" Ajantis asked Eldoth. "Why is he against helping you?"

Eldoth blinked before giving a small sigh. "At the time our partnership concluded, we tried to kill each other."

Silence filled the air. Eldoth raised his hands.

"It was over a misunderstanding, but he still holds a grudge for it. A rather unreasonable one, considering we were both at fault.' The Ruathym looked up. "It is getting close to dawn," he quipped, looking to Kagain. "Should we rest further, Captain, or return to the road?"

Kagain returned his gaze for a moment before standing up again.

"Finish ya food an' get ya stuff. We'll be movin' in ten minutes."

He stomped nosily away, barking orders to his men.

"Xzar?" said Imoen. The wizard blinked in alarm and flinched back from her. "Aren't you hungry? Montaron said you've been dodging the Fist all night and day."

Xzar's green eyes blinked rapidly at her before he slowly straightened in his seat. "Do not worry, young lady," he replied with a wide smile. "I have already eaten."

"Oh," said Imoen. Her eyes went to his bloodied hand and back to his face. "Okay," she said calmly.

Xzar blinked and then furrowed his brow at her. Imoen turned back to Dorean and pressed a fourth orange into his hand. He pouted but otherwise accepted it.

As the party stood to gather their belongings and help dismantle the camp, Garrick, who had been silent the entire time, approached Dorean.

"How is your hand?"

The dwarf looked up at him. "What?"

"I noticed it was swollen."

Dorean looked down at where Garrick was pointing; the base of the thumb of his gloved right hand.

"...it's fine. I had it healed already." He paused. "Thank you."

Garrick hesitated, then nodded and smiled before turning away to help Khalid put out the fire.

As he followed Imoen towards the tent where she had left his pack and weapons, Dorean noticed Montaron standing nearby with his hands resting on his belt.

Their eyes met, and the dwarf recalled the halfling assassin's words.

 _Nice story._

He slowly turned away, maintaining a calm, relaxed demeanour, and tugged the sleeve of his shirt over the thumb which he had earlier deliberately dislocated.


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

True to his word, Kagain waited for exactly ten minutes before ordering his men to move out. Imoen scowled at him, having yet to finish wiping mud from Dorean's face and beard.

The party followed behind the mercenaries, heading south through the woods to avoid the road. As usual Montaron took the lead, which Dorean now suspected was more to make Khalid and Jaheira less on guard than anything else. He gazed quietly at the halfling's back, pondering the man's intentions.

 _Doubt I'd learn anything more about him for now. He's not one to talk much._ He glanced at Eldoth. _Although..._

Deciding to mentally shelve the issue for now, Dorean spoke to Imoen, Garrick and the half-elves who told him of their own experiences in the battle with the Black Talons and after he was arrested. Jessa Vai had been genuine in her orders; her men had waited and then escorted the party back to the caravan camp.

"We s-saw her while we were travelling to the F-Friendly Arm," said Khalid. "She...didn't look v-very happy."

Dorean's mind recalled Vai standing before Benjamin Farrahd in his tent, stiffly accepting his acknowledgment of 'her' report. He frowned, but decided to say nothing for now.

Imoen, having finished cleaning Dorean's face while they marched, fell back to offer to clean Xzar's robes. The wizard responded by leaping two feet into the air and frantically scrambling past her to Montaron's side, and the pink-clad girl pouted at him before returning to her roommate.

An hour passed, during which the party mostly listened to the muttered conversations of the mercenaries. Garrick attempted a song to lighten their spirits, stopping when Kagain stomped back and threw a rock at his head before returning to the front.

"He's not very fond of music, is he?" the bard said mildly, standing up from where he had ducked the thrown projectile.

"Perhaps," said Eldoth. "Or perhaps he did not appreciate your choice of song. Are you certain that was a proper dwarven war march?" he added with a glance at Dorean.

The dwarf remained silent as Eldoth and Garrick began an animated discussion on dwarven songs. He contemplated Garrick for a moment, noting that the bard out of everyone else in the party had noticed his hand injury. At least, he _hoped_ Garrick was the only one who had noticed. He silently looked back to Montaron who was now speaking quietly to Xzar.

 _Does he know what actually happened? If so, why didn't he say anything? And why let me know that he knows?_

He was brought out of his thoughts by Imoen holding a pear in front of his large nose. Dorean frowned at her smiling face before reluctantly taking and biting into the fruit. She gave one more wipe of his beard with the cloth in her other hand and then wrapped her arm around his neck, hugging him close, clearly deeply relieved at his escape and safety after his arrest.

Behind them, Khalid smiled warmly at the two roommates. Looking over and noticing Jaheira frowning at them, he hesitated for a moment before drawing closer to her and subtly taking her hand in his. She blinked and then turned her frown on him, yet made no attempt to free herself.

At the rear of the party, Ajantis silently noted the 'pairs' and camaraderie that was forming in the party. He smiled at Eldoth and Garrick arguing over the alleged existence of dwarven love poems. Rather than attempt to engage anyone in conversation himself, he remained by himself in the rear.

 _Watch over us in our journey, Vigilant One._

The young Helmite sent a silent _thank you_ to Imoen for unintentionally driving Xzar to the front of the party. It had been a very uncomfortable hour with the wizard walking right beside him and staring without blinking at his head the entire time.

..

* * *

The sun had sunk halfway into the horizon by the time Kagain finally called a halt. In contrast to most of his men who immediately sat down and removed their packs from their shoulders, the dwarven leader remained standing, pointing to and giving orders to five of them. They glowered, but none dared to openly voice their resentment of being assigned lookout after nearly twelve hours of non-stop marching.

"Fifteen minutes," Kagain barked. "Catch ya breath an' fill ya stomachs, but water only! No alcohol! Lene, check on Maija. I don't care if she says she's fine, hold her down if she resists."

He stomped away towards the party who were now resting in the rear, ignoring the mutters and glares from his men.

"Hmph. Ya ain't dead yet," he declared, his eyes lingering on Garrick who was breathing heavily with his back against a tree. "What's the manner, music boy, can't handle a little walk?"

"What do you want, dwarf?" Jaheira said brusquely.

"We're less than an hour to Thalantyr's place, an' my scouts saw somethin' that wasn't there the last time we were 'round here; a log cabin a hundred paces ahead, camouflaged and locked up tight. I want ya ta check it out now, make sure no one's in there."

"Why us an' not yer scouts?" asked Montaron. Kagain sneered.

"'Cos ya owe me. Now get on it."

He turned on his heel and stomped nosily back to his men. Montaron's lip curled as he stood up and turned to Dorean. "Come on."

Feeling Khalid and Jaheira stir from beside him, Dorean silently got to his feet, placing a hand on Imoen's shoulder to prevent her from rising. "It's better if there are less of us."

"Yeah," Montaron agreed, pointing at Imoen. "Ye stay here."

The dwarf and halfling turned to leave.

"Montaron."

The assassin stopped and slowly turned around to face Khalid.

"He had better not be injured when you return."

The Harper and the Zhent glared coldly at each other for a moment before the latter turned away. Dorean paused to nod and smile at Khalid before following him. Imoen watched them out of sight, her expression forlorn. She then slowly took out more wrapped bacon from her food-bag and distributed it to the party (Eldoth accepted his reluctantly).

Xzar, whose hand and robes were still covered in dried blood, cautiously accepted a bacon strip while leaning away from and carefully avoiding contact with her fingers.

..

* * *

Kagain had not exaggerated about the cabin. Wooden boards had been nailed across the door and windows, and the walls and roof were thoroughly covered in foliage.

 _Looks abandoned to me_ , thought Dorean. _Still, better safe than sorry._

He glanced at Montaron standing beside him. The halfling's eyes were fixed not on the cabin but its surroundings. Dorean joined him in scanning the tree branches above. After a minute, he felt Montaron's hand roughly pat his shoulder. Reluctantly, the dwarf moved from his hiding place, walked straight up to the cabin and knocked on the boarded-up door.

Deciding not to call out, Dorean waited ten seconds and then knocked again, forcing himself not to glance behind him. He felt a bead of sweat flow down his temple, half-expecting an arrow, crossbow bolt or spell to hit him in the back.

After about thirty seconds, despite not hearing any footsteps, Dorean sensed Montaron joining him in front of the door.

"Guess it's empty," he said, not trying to conceal his nervousness. "We should head back." Montaron ignored him, his eyes fixed on the door. "Montaron?"

The halfling began to scale the cabin's wall. Dorean groaned and watched as he clambered onto the roof.

"Come on," Montaron ordered.

Fuming, Dorean followed, wincing as his injured hand grasped the wood for support. Montaron made no attempt to help him, instead walking around and studying the leaves and moss covering the wooden roof. Massaging his right hand, Dorean watched as the halfling stopped near a corner, crouched down and swept leaves and dirt away from the surface to reveal a trapdoor.

Dorean took a few steps forward. Without looking up, Montaron shot out a hand to halt him.

"Trip-wire. Across the lid."

Dorean's eyes widened and he immediately looked up and began to scan the trees again. "We should get back and tell the others," he muttered, trying to keep his voice steady. He looked back to see Montaron carefully snipping the wire with his knife. "Montaron," he hissed.

The halfling continued to ignore him, opening the trapdoor and gazing down into the cabin. "Pressure plate right below," he said calmly.

With that, he stood up and dropped in. Dorean stared at the spot where he had disappeared, half-expecting to hear a _click_ followed by a cry or scream. When neither occurred, he let out a frustrated growl through his beard and went over to the trap door.

"Montaron?" he called, again scanning the trees around the cabin. "I _really_ think we should leave now."

No answer came. Dorean remained next to the trapdoor, not daring to go inside. Several minutes passed in silence save for the chirping of birds and insects.

A thought suddenly occurred to him; that should he return to the trapdoor, Montaron would be vulnerable while attempting to climb out.

His eyes focused on the open trapdoor and his left hand curled around the knife at his belt.

 _I could say that he fell to one of the traps._

Montaron's hands suddenly appeared at the lip of the trapdoor, followed by his head. His eyes instantly flicked to Dorean's hand on his belt knife, then to his face.

A few seconds passed.

Dorean stepped back. Montaron silently climbed out, turned around, closed the trapdoor and brushed leaves and dirt over it. He turned back and walked past Dorean, passing so close that their arms nearly touched, and dropped down from the roof. The dwarf hesitated for a moment before following him.

Neither of them spoke as they made their way back, and when they returned, they found the party all standing in front of the seated mercenaries.

"Lived in," said Montaron. "Clean an' well-kept. Supplies an' weapons."

Kagain's eyebrows came together. "An' ya didn't take any?"

"Didn't touch anything. Place is completely booby-trapped."

Kagain's beard bristled, which Dorean recognized as a sign that he had clenched his jaw, before quickly turning to his men. "Break's over, get ya asses up! I don't _care_ if it ain't been fifteen minutes, get up an' get ya shit!" He turned back to the party. "We'll skirt this area. Head south, get outta these damn woods. Then we'll go east ta Thalantyr's."

Xzar tilted his head and grinned. "You know who lives in that cabin, do you?" he purred. Kagain glared at him, seemingly more out of principle than at the question, before turning back to the others. When he spoke again, his voice was low and grim.

"If it's who I think it is, we need ta get away from here _now_."

..

* * *

Disgruntled and tired, the mercenaries grumbled to one another under their breaths. There were many repeated glances at the party behind them, and at Jaheira's instruction the party kept their distance, the memory of the Red Sheaf mutiny still fresh in their minds.

Thankfully, the muttered complaints were all that resulted from the prolonged march, and within an hour, the trees gave way to an open road. Relieved that they no longer had to trek through forest undergrowth, the mercenaries' mood lifted, and a few of them even fell back to chat with the outsiders. One even attempted to flirt with Jaheira and was repelled by a glacial, half-lidded scowl from her, earning a smirk from Eldoth and, to Dorean's surprise, a wry smile from Khalid.

"Ah! There it is," said Garrick, pointing at what appeared to be stone turrets appearing over the slope of a grassy hill. "High Hedge. The estate of Thalantyr the Conjurer." He paused and stroked his chin as they drew closer. "Hmm. The towers are newer than the rest of the building. Why is that?"

"Wizard," Dorean, Imoen, Khalid and Jaheira answered simultaneously. Garrick blinked at them before looking at Xzar, who frowned and leaned away from him.

"Hey, ya wanna keep it down back there?!" Kagain hollered. "I don't think the Dukes inna city could hear ya!"

"Says the lout who's making more noise than all of us put together," Imoen muttered as the dwarf turned away with a _clunk_ of his heavy steel-shod boots. Dorean made to elbow her in the side and stopped upon seeing one of Kagain's scouts jogging towards them.

"Any Fists?" Kagain asked.

"Nah, boss. But there's a guy inna tree watchin' the place. Silver haired an' dressed all in black."

" _What?!_ Oh, it better not be who I..." Kagain's next words were lost as he stomped forward. The party exchanged looks before following the mercenaries after their leader.

Growling under his breath and swinging his broad arms, Kagain strode forward as fast as his short legs would allow, stopping a short distance from a tree where, sure enough, a silver-haired figure clad in black and bright brown could clearly be seen perched in the branches.

"Permy! Get the hell down here!"

The stranger gave a start, turned and scowled at the assembly below him and yelled back, "Go away! I'm trying to plan the grandest of heists here!"

"Ya get down here right now before I _get_ ya down!"

Tilting his head upwards and rolling his eyes with a loud, drawn-out groan, the stranger nimbly climbed and slid down the tree. He turned to face them again, revealing a youthful face that could not be older than seventeen.

"What in the _Hell_ are ya doin' here, Permy?" demanded Kagain.

"The name is Permidion Stark! And not that it is any of your business, but I am going to pull off the greatest heist in-"

"Where did ya get those weapons?!" Kagain exclaimed, stepping closer and pointing at the youth's sword and bow.

"What's it matter where I got them?!" Permidion retorted. "And it's none of your business anyway!"

Kagain's hand swung up and slapped him hard across the face, sending him to the ground.

"Talk back ta me, will ya?!" the dwarf shouted. "Little punk like you, talk back ta me?!"

"Kagain!" Ajantis yelled, marching forward and ignoring the mercenaries tensing up around him. "That is enough!"

"Oh dear," said Eldoth, his eyes on the Dented Shields. The party hurried after Ajantis.

"Stay outta this, squire-boy," Kagain growled. Ajantis stepped forward until they were nose-to-belly.

"I will not have you strike a child!"

"I'll be hittin' _you_ if ya don't back up outta my face right n-"

"Captain!" Lene shouted. The dwarf turned around to see a red-faced Permidion standing up and drawing his sword. With a loud cry, the young thief raised the weapon over his head, only to drop it when Kagain's left hand slapped his other cheek, dropping him to the ground again.

"Draw a blade on _me_ , you little-"

 _"I said that's enough!"_ Ajantis roared. "He is only a _child!"_

Kagain's bright blue eyes glared up at the tall squire who refused to back down. Noticing the mercenaries drawing closer, Khalid moved behind Ajantis and turned around to face them.

"Not again..." Imoen groaned.

Kagain spat off to the side, turned back to Permidion and kicked the sword down the slope of the hill. He then roughly turned him over with his boot and wrenched his bow from his back before tossing it down the hill as well.

"Get the hell outta here, Permy. An' if I see ya with a weapon or outta town alone again, it's gonna be more than a coupla slaps!"

Permidion staggered to his feet, his nose bloody and his eyes aflame. A moment passed with him glaring hatefully at Kagain, his fists clenched and jaw trembling, before he slowly turned and stalked away.

"Stupid kid," Kagain muttered. "Oughta give his drunk of a father a slap as..." he paused upon seeing Montaron step past him towards Permidion with dagger in hand. "What are ya doin'?"

Montaron ignored him and drew his arm back to throw the dagger. In the next three seconds, an axe, two swords and a quarterstaff were all pointed at the halfling's face. He slowly turned his head to face their owners.

"Put away your weapon, sir, or I will be forced to take action," Ajantis ordered sternly.

"He gets to town, people'll know we're here," Montaron calmly replied.

"Shut up an' put it away," Kagain growled. _"Now."_

Montaron's cold gaze rested on Kagain's before moving to the two half-elves. A smirk rose to the corner of his lips as he slowly returned the throwing dagger to his belt. He then turned and walked away towards the estate.

"I am surprised," said Jaheira, her eyes fixed on the retreating halfling. "Yet glad to learn that some of us have our limits."

There were a few seconds of silence followed by Kagain snorting and belting his axe before yelling at his men to get moving. Behind them, Eldoth let out an exasperated sigh before turning to Garrick. "Still want to travel with us, friend?"

"Oh, absolutely," Garrick replied with a thoroughly sincere smile. Eldoth and Xzar (who was standing next to Eldoth) frowned at him.

"This one is not right in the head," said the wizard. Garrick, Eldoth, Imoen, Dorean and several mercenaries within earshot all stared at him.

"You think it'll be okay?" Imoen asked Dorean as she watched Permidion stumble away with a hand over his left cheek. "Not that I mean we should have..."

"Nothing we can do about it now," Dorean replied morosely.

She gave his shoulder a squeeze, nearly causing him to drop his blowpipe as he carefully returned it to his pocket.

..

* * *

Ignoring the brass knocker on each of the tall, cone-shaped double doors, Kagain grasped both door knobs and swung them open, leading the party and his men into the lobby of the estate. His boots echoed loudly off the tiled floor, the metallic sound rising to the high ceiling.

"Hey! Thalantyr! Get ya ass over here!"

There was a distant crash, colourful swearing, the duel slams of a door being violently opened and then shut, and pounding footsteps before a grey-haired man of average height and build and dressed in elaborate robes of green, gold and dark red appeared in the entranceway.

"What?!" he shouted.

"Whattaya mean 'what', let us in," Kagain replied.

"No! No, I don't care what it is, I don't care what you've got to say or to offer, I have enough on my damn plate as-"

"One'a my guys is wounded."

"I _said_ I'm fine-" a voice snarled from behind.

"Shut up, Maija, nobody's talkin' to ya!" Kagain snapped over his shoulder. "Well?" he turned back to Thalantyr. "Yes or no, we don't have all day."

The old wizard glared at him and the two dozen faces assembled in the lobby.

"Leave your weapons," he said at last. "And your damn footwear!" he added with a glower at the mud and dirt on the floor.

"Do as he says, boys," Kagain ordered his men. "An' show some respect, we're in his home."

Reluctantly, the party and mercenaries removed their weapons and boots. Thalantyr stood in the centre of the entranceway, arms folded and eyes narrowed as, at Kagain's instruction, everyone arranged their weapons and footwear in neat rows so as not to obstruct the lobby. The magus' eyes lingered on the still-bloodied Xzar who had cheerfully removed his shoes and placed them next to Dorean's, and they narrowed further upon seeing the dwarf remove a knife from his boot and place it on the floor.

"You, your injured man," said Thalantyr. "And these people," he added with a sweeping finger at the party. "The rest stay here."

"Don't touch anything, nugget," Kagain growled at Dorean. Imoen stuck her tongue out at him as soon as he turned his back.

"Behave yourself, child," Jaheira scolded. Imoen frowned at her but said nothing.

They followed behind Kagain (whose footsteps still somehow managed to be loud despite his footwear being reduced to thick socks) as Thalantyr led them down two wide hallways. Maija walked behind her boss ahead of the party, sullenly swinging her fists from side to side. The old magus stopped at a set of double doors in the centre of a third hallway, pushed them open and stepped inside, the party filing behind after him.

"Strange," said Garrick, eyes roving over the beds arranged in two neat rows along the walls. "For a man who does not welcome visitors, he keeps good lodgings."

Kagain turned to Maija and pointed at the nearest bed, his expression brooking no argument. She glowered at him but silently obeyed, easing herself onto it with a pained groan. She then yelled out in protest as Jaheira walked up and began to unceremoniously remove her bandages.

Rolling his eyes at his subordinate's curses, Kagain looked away, his eyes narrowing upon seeing that they were not alone; a woman, an elf from her ears, was sitting upright on one of the beds along the opposite wall, silently watching the new arrivals.

"Hey, Thalantyr!" the dwarf said loudly. "Who's the swish?"

"None of your business!" the magus snapped. "Outside. Now."

With a loud snort and another suspicious glance at the elf, Kagain followed Thalantyr out of the room.

"He's in a bad mood," said Dorean. "Not a good start to our request for help."

"Kagain doesn't seem the type to make requests," Imoen replied, scowling at the door where the mercenary leader had disappeared. Dorean sighed.

"I know you don't like him, but-"

"But nothin'," she huffed, turning away and crossing her arms.

The party stood and listened to Maija's complaints falling on deaf ears as Jaheira examined and applied more healing magic to her wound, then shoved a handful of berries into the mercenary's hands before returning to the party. The elf continued to watch them from the other side of the room, her expression quiet and unreadable. Glancing at her, Dorean noted that she was dressed in a light brown tunic and that a pack, presumably hers, had been placed under the table next to her bed.

Garrick's brow had furrowed, and he was openly staring at the elf. He looked about to go over and speak to her when the door opened again and Kagain poked his head in.

"Follow me, all'a yas. An' Maija, I want all that shit the druid's given ya in ya stomach by the time I get back, ya hear me?"

Maija scowled and looked away before contemptuously shoving all of the berries into her mouth. Kagain glared at her as she chewed noisily, glanced at the elven stranger again, then looked back at the party.

"Well? Whattaya standin' there for? He's waitin'."

..

* * *

Thalantyr's study, Dorean observed, bore an uncanny resemblance to Gorion's in Candlekeep, the most noticeable difference being that the conjurer's is much larger. Two of the four walls were covered from floor to high ceiling with bookshelves, neither of which seemed to have a ladder. Even his desk was similar to Gorion's, though messier; scrolls, ink bottles, quill pens both broken and intact, and potion vials with varying colours and amounts of liquids were strewn all over it. One of the latter had been knocked over, its contents now drying on several unfortunate scrolls.

The magus himself stood in front of the desk, his hands in the pockets of his robes and a sullen scowl on his face as the party led by Kagain filed into the room. Once more, his eyes lingered on Xzar who again chose to stand next to Eldoth.

"Kagain has told me about your situation," he said, clearly not in the mood for pleasantries. "And I'll tell you what I told him; going into Beregost would be very dangerous and _monumentally_ stupid. If you need supplies, mundane or magical, I can provide them, _for a price,"_ he added with a pointed look at Kagain. "Then, I suggest you leave at once and go straight to Nashkel, once your friend has rested."

"Aye," said Montaron. "I like this plan."

"And I do not, unfortunately," Eldoth said firmly. "I cannot travel further until I have-"

"No one's talkin' to ye," Montaron snapped. For the first time in the party's eyes, Eldoth Kron openly displayed anger as he glared back at his former partner.

"If we are bringing this to a vote," Ajantis hastily interjected. "I am in agreement with Thalantyr. Will it not be safer to obtain what we need here?"

"What about Eldoth?" asked Dorean. Montaron glared at him.

"What do ye care?"

"I want to help him, Montaron."

"And I want to help him help him," said Xzar. The party (including Montaron) all stared at him.

"Why?" Jaheira asked for all of them, the one syllable dripping with suspicion and distrust. Xzar raised an eyebrow at her in imitation of Eldoth.

"Why do you ask?" he said loftily.

"Enough already!" Imoen suddenly shouted, making everyone jump. "Mister Thalantyr," she implored to the magus who had now folded his arms and was watching the party with a mixture of irritation and fascination. "Could you help us? And not just by selling us your wares. We're all in _really_ big trouble."

Thalantyr scowled at her. "I know, he told me," he said, inclining his head at Kagain. "And my position is unchanged," he added sternly. "I will offer no aid beyond-"

He stopped and looked up at the sounds of shouts and clashing metal. For a single second, the party remained still, exchanging alarmed looks with one another.

Then everyone moved at once. There was a brief scrum at the door and then they were through, Jaheira leading them down the hallway.

"Ya didn't put up any wards?!" Kagain shouted at Thalantyr who was running beside him.

"I was busy!" the magus retorted.

"Busy with ya latest squeeze! What kinda soddin' moron forgets ta-"

"Shut the hell up!" Thalantyr yelled, increasing his speed and outpacing the dwarf as the party turned a corner and thundered down another corridor.

The shouts became louder and more distinguishable as they drew closer.

 _"Get back, get the hell back-!"_

 _"Drop your weapons_ _ **right**_ _ **now**_ _-!"_

 _"You come any closer, you go out feet-first, I swear on-!"_

They reached the lobby and Jaheira skidded to a halt. The party all followed suit, Dorean and Imoen (and Khalid who had stayed beside them all the way) nearly colliding into her from behind.

"Silvanus aid us!" Jaheira exclaimed, raising her quarterstaff.

Before her stood a half-dozen Flaming Fist mercenaries, back-to-back with shields locked and facing two split groups of Kagain's mercenaries, of whom about only half appeared to have succeeded in grabbing their weapons and shields off the floor. One of them hurled a muddy boot, bouncing it off an enemy shield. At least a dozen more Flaming Fist mercenaries stood outside the open double doors, weapons and spell-casting hands raised in preparation for battle.

Hearing something from just beside him, Ajantis turned to look, his eyes widening upon seeing Xzar chanting the words to a spell.

 **"STOP."** Thalantyr boomed, his voice so unnaturally loud that the very ground seemed to tremble. Everybody fell silent, their heads turned to the magus who now suddenly appeared to be taller and more imposing.

"Thalantyr the Conjurer!" said a familiar, commanding voice, and Dorean immediately stepped behind Khalid as Captain Benjamin Farrahd boldly marched through the entrance and past his six men inside the lobby, stopping a few paces in front of Jaheira's quarterstaff. "These people are criminals wanted by the state! By the authority of the Council of Four, I beseech you to aid us in apprehending-"

"I care not what the state or the Council wants," Thalantyr said, his voice stern and calm yet still unnaturally loud. "In here, the only authority I recognize is my own. And I say that as long as you are under my roof, you will stand down. All of you!" he added, looking around at the party and Kagain's mercenaries.

Farrahd stiffened, his dark blue eyes boring into Thalantyr's as he stood directly in front of the party, arms at his sides and his men behind him. The scar on his cheek was highlighted in the dusk sunlight filtering through the windows high above, and Dorean grimaced upon seeing that his left ear was gone.

"Kagain," said Thalantyr. "Tell your men to lower their weapons."

"Them first," the dwarf growled back, running his fingers and tightening his grip on the haft of his axe. Thalantyr glared at him before silently looking back to Farrahd.

"Captain?" said one of the two Flaming Fist mercenaries just behind Farrahd. The latter neither replied nor moved, still staring a hole through Thalantyr's face.

Thunderous footfalls suddenly filled the air, echoing off the walls. From opposite ends of the lobby appeared two gigantic humanoids over nine feet tall, shuffling forward on huge, misshapen feet. Their enormous torsos, covered in surgical, messily stitched scars, cast shadows over most of the mercenaries, who reeled back at the sight of the lifeless eyes in heads far too small for their bodies.

"Helm's beard-!" Ajantis gasped.

"Flesh golems," Xzar mused, his hands still poised to launch what Imoen suspected was a Horror spell. "Poorly constructed, but relatively functional." He paused and added, "No offense," at Thalantyr.

"Orders, Captain?" said the same Flaming Fist mercenary, his voice now, to his credit, only shaking very slightly.

"Anyone who chooses to attack anyone else in my home will be subjected to _my_ law," said Thalantyr.

No one dared to move. The two flesh golems stopped just behind both groups of Dented Shield mercenaries.

"Kagain," Lene warned from one of the groups.

"Them. First," the dwarf snarled, his eyes fixed on Farrahd whose own gaze had not left Thalantyr's face.

Like the golems, Farrahd stood very still. After several agonizing seconds, his eyes slowly moved to each of the party standing around Thalantyr. They stopped on Imoen who was holding her bow steady with the arrow pointed directly at his face. Dorean, whose own hands were devoid of a weapon, was tugging on the hem of her shirt in a futile attempt to pull her behind Khalid.

"Men," Farrahd said softly, his voice echoing in the otherwise silent lobby. "Outside."

After a long moment of hesitation, the Flaming Fist obeyed, though the one who had spoken lingered behind Farrahd.

"Captain..."

"Go, Sergeant," Farrahd replied without looking. He remained still even after his men were all gone from sight, leaving him alone in the lobby with Kagain's mercs and the party, of whom Jaheira's quarterstaff was still close to his face. His dark blue, half-lidded eyes moved over them all, the calm, emotionless stare more threatening than any wrathful glare.

"My orders are to apprehend only three of you," he said slowly. "Keep that in mind."

He slowly turned around and marched towards the open double doors, looking neither to the left or right.

A long silence followed his receding footsteps. Then, with a series of guttural, furious growls, Kagain stomped forward, stuck his head out and quickly peered around, then pulled both doors shut, ripped off his helmet, whirled around and hurled it over the heads of the party into the hall beyond.

"They will prepare an ambush for us," Lene said grimly, breaking the silence. Kagain did not answer her, still lost in his glowering.

No one spoke for a moment.

"My home is not a sanctuary for fugitives," said Thalantyr. "You are free to look over and purchase what I have for sale, but then you must leave."

The lobby was instantly filled with a buzz of raised voices, a majority protesting Thalantyr's announcement while others argued for alternative measures. A few even pointed and shouted at Dorean and the two Zhents.

Keeping her short-bow at the ready, Imoen backed away behind Khalid, glancing at Kagain who was pointing at Thalantyr and yelling something about the man 'owing him.'

She looked down at Dorean beside her. As always, his beard obscured half of his features, and his hood covered most of his eyes. Regardless, she felt rather than saw his calm, stoic demeanour; like a rock in a tide of emotions. She then blinked in surprise as he suddenly moved forward, his walking pace deceptively fast as he reached Thalantyr, lifted a hand and tapped him repeatedly on the hip with his finger.

The magus paused in a simultaneous argument with Kagain and Jaheira to round angrily on Dorean. The dwarf calmly made a head gesture towards the hallway, silently asking to speak to him in private. Thalantyr's brow furrowed as he glared down at him, yet after a few seconds he detached himself from the crowd and pushed past the party members in front of him, waving a hand at Dorean to follow. The dwarf obeyed, ignoring the gazes of the crowd behind him as they watched him walk behind the old wizard towards his study.

Silence fell once more in the lobby.

"Why golems?" Garrick suddenly asked aloud. "What happened to the griffons?"

Everyone stared at him.

"I _told_ you, this one is not right in the head!" Xzar hissed into Eldoth's ear, seemingly unaware that everyone could hear him. Eldoth stared at him for a long moment.

"I have to say..." he slowly drawled. "You are a very... _intriguing_ person."

There was a cough from Montaron that sounded suspiciously like a snort, and a few of the mercenaries even snickered, albeit briefly. Smiling good-naturedly at everyone, Garrick sat down on the floor and crossed his legs, then removed his flute and brought it to his lips, playing a slow, sooth-sounding tune.

Everyone blinked at him before lowering, sheathing or picking up their weapons.

"Let us all sit down," said Jaheira. "It has been a long day's travel."

"Hey, I give the damn orders here!" Kagain snapped. He paused at Jaheira's half-lidded stare and then added "Yeah, yeah, fine, sit the sod down. Not you two!" he added with a pointed finger at the two mercenaries who were unfortunate enough to be standing nearest to him. "Ya on guard duty. Go stand by the door."

..

* * *

"Leave it," Thalantyr ordered, striding further into the room as Dorean made to close the door. The old magus turned around and leaned against his desk once more, crossing his arms over his chest as he awaited whatever the dwarven fugitive had to say.

"I think I know how you would help us in regards to getting into Beregost, should you decide to do so," said Dorean. Thalantyr frowned, but said nothing. "And you know by now that we need it more than ever." Dorean paused, awaiting a reply from the wizard who remained silent. "You know we cannot leave. Not with the Flaming Fist out there. They will ambush us if we do, and at the very least, they _will_ kill or capture a number of us. I do not know whether that concerns you, Master Thalantyr," he said, his voice growing solemn. "Nor will I hazard a guess. But I will say this," he continued, puffing out his thin chest as he looked up at the man's face. "If you aid us, I will be in your debt. And please, not Kagain, nor the ones who have been accused of being my accomplices. Me. And I promise you, no matter what form it may take, I will repay that debt, be it in gold or in actions. No matter the risk."

Thalantyr gazed down at the little dwarf through half-lidded eyes. He did not speak for a moment.

"How could I be certain," he said at last, his voice slow and measured. "That I will even see you again should I accept your offer? That you would return or even survive?"

Dorean lifted his head, looking him full in the eyes. "Because you will have my word."

"And is that supposed to be enough?"

"A dwarf does not break his word, Thalantyr," Dorean replied, his voice suddenly stern as he narrowed his eyes at the magus. "And you know that."

Thalantyr lifted his chin, staring past his nose at Dorean. Silence fell upon the messy study, Thalantyr leaning against his desk while Dorean stood ramrod straight, neither faltering or backing down.

"Tell Kagain I want to see him," Thalantyr said at last.

Dorean slowly nodded and turned towards the door.

"And tell those goons of his to clean up my damn floor," Thalantyr added. "I don't want to see any dirt when I return."


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

With a low growl, Kagain stomped down the hall and into the study. "Clangeddin's arse, what the hell is ya-"

He stopped upon seeing Thalantyr's face.

"Close the door," the magus ordered. The dwarf hesitated before obeying, keeping his eyes on the man.

"Did you tell him about the tunnel?" Thalantyr asked coldly.

Kagain's eyes widened briefly before narrowing. "No, I sodding didn't."

"Then how did he know about it?"

Kagain's beard bristled as he looked away.

"Well?" said Thalantyr. Kagain growled again, his mood black, before turning back to him.

"There was a bloody mutiny at the inn. He ran from one of the traitors an' ended up in it."

Thalantyr's face dropped as he slowly eased up off the desk.

"That answer ya sodding question?"

A moment passed.

"How did it happen?"

"What do ya care?" Kagain snapped.

A muscle twitched in the old wizard's cheek, yet he remained silent.

"Ya still owe me for savin' ya sorry ass, so gimme a _goddamn answer already!_ Ya gonna help me or not?!"

Thalantyr's eyes flashed. Kagain neither faltered nor backed down, coldly glaring back. After a moment, the magus breathed in deep, exhaling slowly, and it was then that Kagain noticed the lines around his eyes; the old man had not slept in some time.

"If I do this," Thalantyr said slowly. " _You_ will be in _my_ debt."

The dwarf paused, then sneered and gave a loud snort. "Yeah. Fine."

"How soon do you intend to leave?"

"After midnight. Six, seven hours. The boys've been walkin' all day. An' we're gonna need some things from ya. Still givin' us the discount?"

"I will maintain it for now."

"Ya better," Kagain retorted. "An' why are ya usin' the golems? Where the hell's the rest'a ya security?"

The conjurer hesitated. "I sent them out."

" _All_ of them?!"

"Yes, all of them!" the magus snapped. "Now if there's nothing else-"

"The elf."

Thalantyr froze. "What about her?"

"Who is she?" Kagain asked, his voice low. Thalantyr paused.

"She has been a customer here for the past few months, _before_ this trouble you are in started."

"Why's she here now?"

"It's only temporary. She needs treatment."

"For what? An' why here an' not at Kelddath's?"

Thalantyr hesitated as he considered and then resigned himself to the fact that Kagain was not going to back down. "She is not welcome there."

Kagain's eyes narrowed even further. "Why?"

"Kagain, this isn't your-"

"I've been backstabbed an' sabotaged too many times this sodding week," the dwarf growled. "So pardon me just a little sodding bit for bein' careful!"

"She is no friend of the Flaming Fist," said Thalantyr. "Of that, I can guarantee. Beyond that," he added, his tone conveying that the matter was now indisputably closed. "It is _not._ Your business."

Kagain glared up at him, his bushy eyebrows furrowed together. He then snorted loudly and crossed his arms across his broad chest.

"Ya house," he growled through the grinding of his teeth. "Ya rules."

..

* * *

From the window, Imoen watched the last rays of sunset fade into the horizon. She then gazed at the trees on the hill-slope, imagining Flaming Fist mercenaries hiding behind every one.

"Do you think they'll get tired and leave?" she said quietly.

"Nah," replied the lookout next to her. "Fist are stubborn bastards, an' they've got a mad-on for this dwarf'a yours. They're out there, alright." He glanced at her and paused upon seeing her forlorn expression. "But they won't be sneakin' up on us," he quickly added. "Try anythin' like that, we'll make 'em very sorry."

Imoen looked up at him and then gave a smile that did not quite reach her eyes.

"Thanks for this, by the way," the mercenary added, holding up a half-eaten chicken leg. She nodded in answer and then moved back to the centre of the lobby, passing one of the flesh golems which now stood against the wall like a macabre suit of armour display.

Whatever improved mood that Kagain's men had enjoyed from the end of their long march had mostly evaporated with the unexpected arrival of the Flaming Fist. They were now all tired, hungry, and their spirits had been further dampened by Dorean's reluctant delivery of Thalantyr's order to clean the lobby.

An argument had ensued when several of the mercenaries demanded that the party alone carry out the magus' task. Voices had risen along with fists when, thankfully, the half-orc Lene stepped in and ordered a drawing of straws to determine who should join the party in cleaning the lobby.

Once again at Jaheira's instruction, the party had gathered at one end of the lobby area near the door while the Dented Shields occupied the other end. Both groups avoided conversation with one another as the party and five unlucky mercenaries began wiping mud and grime off the floor.

Similar to when they set camp in the Coast Way while awaiting Dorean's rescue from the Friendly Arm guardhouse, Jaheira was sitting cross-legged on the floor with her back to a wall, eyes closed and hands resting on her knees. Imoen tilted her head at the half-elf and made a mental note to ask her later if this was mere basic meditation or if she was actually using her druidic powers to watch the area outside the building.

Dorean was now kneeling, right arm rested on his thigh as he slowly wiped the floor beneath him. Imoen paused to study him, and despite their situation, a smile broke out on her lips as she noted the advantage his short height afforded him; everyone else was forced to work and move around on their hands and knees. Nevertheless, the dwarf's slow, meticulous pace was a sharp contrast to Imoen's who had already finished cleaning her allocated floor section.

"See anything?" he asked as she kneeled down next to him.  
"Not a soul," she answered, taking a cloth from his belt and starting a battle with a particularly stubborn bit of dirt. She glanced up at the hallway leading to the interior of the building. "You think Thalantyr will help us?"

"I don't know," Dorean answered quietly without looking at her, and Imoen immediately knew that this avenue of conversation was closed for now; he clearly did not want to dwell on it. Rather than push the subject, she gave his shoulder a squeeze before returning to her battle with the patch of dirt.

 _If the old man refuses...I could steal something from here that may help us._

"Not that I am complaining," Eldoth commented as he scooted backwards past them on his hands and knees, a muddy cloth in each hand. "But this is not an activity I anticipated partaking in when I joined your company."

"Leave, then," a voice answered from above. Eldoth scowled up at Montaron who was sitting in the rafters and gazing out one of the high windows.

"At least he's helping us," Imoen said reproachfully.

"Bite me," the halfling replied.

"Please, just ignore him," said Xzar. "He has no manners whatsoever."

Imoen looked at him. Xzar had selected an area to clean that had put him next to Ajantis; the latter was concentrating on his own task and was clearly trying not to look at Xzar's robes or his right hand, both of which were still covered in blood.

Imoen tilted her head and continued to stare at the odd wizard until the sound of melodic humming drew her gaze to where Garrick was seated with the Dented Shield mercenaries. The minstrel had chosen to ignore Jaheira's instruction to keep their distance from the mercs and had even offered to help clean their boots. From the haphazardly arranged pile next to him, Kagain's men had been all too eager to accept despite their distrust of freelancers.

Her curiosity piqued, Imoen abandoned Dorean to face the tenacious dirt on his own and went over to Garrick, pausing along the way to hand more chicken, bacon and mutton from her food-bag to nearby mercenaries (are sell-swords primarily carnivores?)

"Want some help?" she offered upon reaching the bard.

"Thank you, but no," Garrick replied jovially, scrapping mud from the bottom of a large boot onto sackcloth that he was now using as a carpet.

Imoen glanced around before sitting down in front of him. "Y'know, you don't _have_ to do this," she said, recalling that he had joined the party and the caravan escort in order to make amends for the Silke Dilemma .

"I know," Garrick replied, still smiling. "Obligation is not my motive here, Imoen. You see, I am taking an opportunity to learn more about my peers."

Imoen tilted her head. "By cleaning their footwear?"

"One could learn or make deductions about others by looking at their socks."

Imoen's brow furrowed sceptically. "Really?"

"Yes, really!" Garrick replied enthusiastically, waving the boot in his hand and nearly concussing a nearby mercenary. "Take Ajantis for example!"

Ajantis looked up and blinked at Garrick and Imoen staring at him.

"Our young friend," said Garrick, waving the boot further and earning a scowl from the mercenary next to him as it again narrowly avoided striking her head. "Is wearing socks made of fine, high-quality wool; a kind that is favoured by the nobility of Amn!"

There was a brief pause.

"I am not Amnian nobility," said Ajantis.

"Oh," said Garrick. He seemed to deflate slightly, but his jovial smile returned as his eyes locked onto a new target. "Khalid's socks are long and beige-coloured. What does that tell us?"

Imoen paused in thought for a moment as Garrick, who looked more pleased and enthusiastic by the second with her involvement, awaited her answer. "That he's from the desert?"

"Correct, though not quite on the mark. His socks are the same kind worn mainly by Calishite soldiers. So we can safely deduce that he used to be one himself."

Rather than blink, blush or stutter, Khalid appeared not to notice their conversation at all, despite his acute hearing. Imoen's brow furrowed again as she contemplated the man's socks before looking back to Garrick. "I'm not sure you can call it a safe deduction, Garrick. Lots of people wear beige socks." She paused and then pointed at Jaheira's feet. "She's wearing beige too, and she's from Tethyr."

"Oh, that just means she wears her husband's clothing," Garrick replied cheerfully.

Jaheira's eyes snapped open and she glared at the bard and thief, both of whom immediately clammed up and gave what they hoped were innocent smiles. She looked about to speak when a series of loud footfalls drew their attention to the hallway.

Everyone paused in cleaning, eating or resting to face Kagain and Thalantyr. The latter took a moment to appraise the floor, his nose wrinkling in disapproval that some dirt still occupied it, before returning his gaze to the two-dozen people in his lobby.

"I have decided," he said shortly. "I will help you all reach Beregost."

There was a collective sigh as a number of mercenaries and party members release their held breaths. Montaron did not look away from the window.

"If anyone wishes to buy anything, follow me now. I will be manning the store _only_ for the next one hour, after which I do not want to be disturbed."

"Get some chow an' shut-eye, an' keep an eye out," Kagain ordered. "We'll be outta here in about six hours, an' I don't wanna see anyone yawnin' when we..." he stopped and frowned upon realizing that the company's attention seemed to be focused elsewhere. Even Thalantyr who appeared to have noticed it was looking in the same direction.

Kagain paused, then followed everyone's eyes down to his feet, both of which were wrapped in light-blue coloured, polka-dotted socks.

He looked up. So did everyone else.

 _"Whattaya bloody lookin' at?!"_ Kagain yelled. Snarling, he turned on his heel and stomped back down the hallway, barely-suppressed snickers from his own men following after him.

..

* * *

Thalantyr's 'store' turned out to be an enormous round chamber whose ceiling appeared to extend to the very top of the building. The party's footsteps echoed loudly as they followed Thalantyr towards an enormous crystal hovering above a dais, its glow providing illumination in the otherwise unlit chamber. Shelves and tables surrounded the crystal, their surfaces crammed with doubtlessly enchanted items.

"Do not touch anything while out of my sight," Thalantyr warned. As though to reinforce its master's point, one of the flesh golems lumbered through and stood in front of the doorway behind the party. Looking around, Imoen realized that there appeared to be no other exit from the chamber. She caught Dorean's eye and pouted before nodding in answer to his silent warning.

 _No stealing._

Kagain had stomped off in a huff, presumably to check on Maija in the dormitory, leaving the rest of the party to browse Thalantyr's wares.

Khalid and Jaheira made a beeline for the potions, dragging Dorean and Imoen with them. Within ten minutes, both Dorean and Imoen had been handed and ordered by Jaheira to purchase three healing potions and two poison antidotes apiece, all of which were picked out by Khalid. Imoen was also forced to buy an infravision potion, and after Thalantyr had counted out her money, she weighed her now much lighter coin purse and scowled at Jaheira.

"I'll pay for the rest," Dorean told her. "I still have some money from that night in Beregost," he added, lowering his voice as Thalantyr moved away to resume his spot in the chamber where he could watch everyone.

Giving him a quick but grateful hug and earning a muffled grumble from him, Imoen left Dorean with Khalid and Jaheira, both of whom had fallen into an argument over buying potions for faster speed or invisibility, and went over to Garrick, Eldoth and Ajantis. The two bards were each holding a crossbow bolt and appeared to be arguing, albeit in a much less heated manner than the married couple, and Ajantis was quietly standing off to the side.

"What are they talking about?" Imoen asked Ajantis.

"Arguing over which is better to enchant into a projectile; lightning or poison," the squire answered. "Garrick believes that lightning is a better component to use in battle, while Eldoth finds it less predictable and prefers the 'safety' of poison."

Imoen was reminded of Silke's lightning bolts. She shook her head slightly to dispel the thought. "What do you think?"

"Magic is not something I am knowledgeable in, I am afraid," said Ajantis. "I ought to have taken more of an interest."

"You wanted to be a wizard?"

"Oh, no. It's just..." Imoen tilted her head as Ajantis paused. "I used to leave most of the arcane knowledge to my teacher. But he is not here now, and..." he trailed off again lost in thought.

"Well...you could ask me, if you want."

He blinked and looked down at her. "You can use magic?"

"Just the basics," Imoen confessed with a smile. "Not enough to be a real mage, and certainly not like ol' Thalantyr there. I don't know anything that'll enhance my voice or control flesh golems."

"They make my skin crawl," said Ajantis, glancing back at the silent sentinel blocking the only doorway.

"Yeeaahh, can't blame you there," replied Imoen. "From what I know, flesh golems can't be called from other planes. They have to be made."

"With human remains," Ajantis said grimly.

"I don't think humans were all that went into it," Imoen said mildly, pointing at the golem's left leg. "I think that might have belonged to an ogre once."

Ajantis shuddered. "Only a twisted mind would think to take the remains of the living and mold them into such a monstrosity."

"I dunno," said Imoen. "I think it's kinda cute."

Ajantis stared at her. Imoen looked up at him.

"Just standin' there, not making any sound, awaiting the command of its master." She paused. "Almost like a nine-foot tall dog."

"I had dogs, milady," Ajantis replied in a dead-pan. "There is nothing in that thing that I find remotely dog-like." He looked over at Thalantyr whom Dorean was purchasing more potions from, and his eyes narrowed. "I know I should not speak ill of our host...but I am beginning to question his practices."

Imoen's eyes darted to Ajantis' cloak, upon which the colours of the Radiant Heart were emblazoned.

 _Uh-oh._ _ **Paladin**_ _._

"Maybe we should ask Xzar first," she said quickly. "He's the only other wizard here." Her eyes scanned the chamber. "Ah, there he is."

Before Ajantis could protest, Imoen took his hand and pulled the tall, mail-clad squire along, away from Thalantyr and his golem and towards Xzar who was leaning over a table on the far side of the dais, Montaron standing a good ten paces behind him.

"Hey, Xzar?"

The wizard jumped and turned to face Imoen, leaning back from her.

"Ajantis has something to ask you," Imoen said quickly.

"Hm?"

Ajantis looked at the patiently waiting Xzar, then at Montaron, and finally frowned at Imoen before turning back to the wizard.

"I was just...wondering if you could tell us anything about that golem." He paused. "Specifically, how it was made."

Xzar blinked at him for a moment. Then, without so much as a glance at the golem, he smiled and clasped his hands behind his back. "Well, I can certainly say that it was **not** made here."

Ajantis' brow furrowed. "You are certain of this?"

Xzar frowned. "Of course I am. I just said so. Do try to listen, boy, it demeans you not to. Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Well, the golem could not have been made _here_ , because there is nothing that vaguely resembles a lab for such a task. No drain to dispose of excess blood, no table with shackles to collect parts from live subjects..."

"E-excuse me _, live_ subjects?" Ajantis sputtered.

"Why, yes. Body parts are generally more accommodating when fresh. Even a few minutes post-modem could affect the quality." Xzar smiled. "Anyway, like I said, there is absolutely no sign here that the hermit made the golems."

Imoen and Ajantis stared. Imoen then took one look at Ajantis' face and quickly turned to the table. "What were you looking at, Xzar?"

"Hmm? Oh, just some-"

"Archmagi robes!" Imoen exclaimed, moving over to the table. Xzar hurriedly backed away as she drew close to him, holding his hands up against his chest. "Mister Thalantyr! How much is this?"

"Will you _please_ not shout in here?!" the magus hollered back as he stomped over to them.

"Sorry, sorry, how much is this?! I've _got_ to buy it!"

Thalantyr took one look at the robe, then at Imoen, and said in a deadpan, "Thirty thousand."

"What? Thirty thousand gold?"

"Yes."

"...could you consider giving us-"

"I _have_ given you people a discount. And I have stretched my generosity to its limits. Thirty thousand. If you don't have it, put it back."

He pointed at the table. Imoen pouted, then placed the robes back on the table with as much care and tenderness as if she were handling a fragile object.

"You have a beautiful crystal," she said after a moment, looking up at the dais.

"Hm? Oh, sure," Thalantyr replied gruffly, smoothing out the robe on the table.

"It's a power source, ain't it?" said Imoen. "To enchant all these," she waved a hand at the merchandise. "How did you make it?"

Thalantyr frowned at her for a moment. "I had help," he answered shortly. "Now, if there is nothing else-"

"There's something in it," Imoen said abruptly, squinting at the crystal.

"What? What are you - get down from there!"

The rest of the party turned to see Imoen standing on top of one of the shelves and staring up at the giant hovering crystal, ignoring Thalantyr angrily waving his arms angrily at her.

"Imoen, what are you doing?!" Dorean shouted.

"How dare you stand on my furniture!" Thalantyr yelled. "Have you no respect for a man's home?!"

Imoen continued to ignore him, placing one hand over her brow as she attempted to discern the object she had glimpsed within the crystal. Thalantyr paused, glaring up at her, then planted his hands on his hips.

"Young lady, you come down from there this instant , or-"

"It's a hand!" Imoen hollered.

"What?" Ajantis breathed, his eyes darting from the crystal to Xzar and then to Thalantyr.

"I-it's not human!" Imoen stammered with a glance back at the paladin. "It's some kind of paw!"

With a snarl, Thalantyr waved his hand and Imoen was suddenly borne backwards off the shelf as though grabbed and held by a giant invisible hand. She was then lowered to the ground in front of Thalantyr who opened his mouth to speak only to be cut off.  
"I'm very, very, very, very sorry, Mister Thalantyr! Please forgive me, I was not thinking, I only wanted to look at it, I wasn't gonna do nothin', no sir, I swear!"

Thalantyr paused for a long moment and then frowned down at the pink-clad girl whose expression of remorse and regret was so convincing that it wasn't.

"If you do anything like that a-" he stopped mid-sentence, eyes widening as he looked back to the crystal. "Oh, not _again!_ "

Imoen whirled around to see Dorean standing atop another shelf opposite them. The dwarf was staring straight up at the crystal, his eyes glazed yet also narrowed in intense concentration.

Thalantyr began to lift his hand again when Khalid quickly reached up, scooped his arms around Dorean's chest, and plucked him from the shelf. The dwarf blinked rapidly, then looked up at Khalid's worried and anxious face.

Thalantyr stomped angrily up to Dorean and the half-elves, but before he could verbally tear into the dwarf, Jaheira rounded on Dorean instead.

"What were you thinking?! That crystal is clearly not a safe thing to touch! You and Imoen should know better!"

"I..." Dorean's eyes moved from Jaheira to Thalantyr. "I am sorry. I don't know what came over me." He lowered his head, avoiding their dual admonishing glares. Khalid chose that moment to worriedly feel over Dorean's forehead.

"Is it harmful?" he implored, looking at the crystal and then at Thalantyr. "Will he be alright?"

The magus looked at the clearly anxious Calishite, then at the entire rest of the party hurrying over to them. He then turned another glare onto Dorean, though it was now increasingly difficult to remain angry when he looked so forlorn in Khalid's arms.

"Khalid?" said Jaheira. Khalid looked up at her. "You can put him down now."

Khalid blinked and gave the dwarf yet another worried look. "Y-you sure?"

Jaheira frowned at him before looking at Dorean. "Can you stand?"

Dorean glanced up at her while keeping his head down. "Yes," he said meekly.

Jaheira looked pointedly at Khalid. After a moment, the Calishite gently and reluctantly lowered the little dwarf to the ground.

"Not to discount your reason for doing it," Eldoth said dryly, cutting off Thalantyr as the latter was about to speak. "But from what I understand, dwarves in general do not appreciate being kept from the ground."

Jaheira turned a burning glare onto the bard while Khalid turned scarlet and sputtered as he looked anxiously to Dorean.

"It's okay," said the dwarf. "You were right to get me off there. I was out of line." He looked up at Thalantyr. "I am sorry, sir. It won't happen again."

Thalantyr glared at him for a moment before looking round at the party. "Well, if you all are done standing on my furniture, please hurry up and buy what you need and then..." He trailed off. The party blinked at him, then all turned towards the crystal to see Xzar standing in the dais directly below it, looking down at something in his hands.

Thalantyr went very still, his face losing all emotion. Nobody moved or spoke.

Xzar slowly turned towards them, still looking down at what now appeared to be two objects clutched in his hands; a sound horn and a severed claw at least four times the size of a human hand.

"Kazgaroth," whispered Garrick. "His paw. And that's one of his tusks. But it looks like it was made into a...horn?"

"You," said Thalantyr, his head high and his voice reaching across the chamber. Xzar's green eyes locked onto the magus' face. "Put those back. Now."

Xzar did not move. He continued to stare at Thalantyr, lowering his head while keeping his eyes on the older wizard.

"Xzar...?" said Imoen.

Xzar ignored her. His gaze remained fixed on Thalantyr. From the corner of her eye, Imoen saw Khalid reach for his sword and grimace upon realizing it wasn't there; their weapons and footwear were all back in the lobby. Her gaze flicked back to Thalantyr; the magus' face remained as emotionless as ever, while Xzar's eyes were now narrowed to slits.

"Xzar?" Imoen called again.

Xzar dropped the claw and horn as he raised his hands.

Thalantyr's own hands shot up.

Imoen felt Khalid and Dorean's hands grasp and began to pull at the back of her tunic.

Jaheira's own hands began to rise.

Ajantis, Garrick and Eldoth all bent their knees to leap away from Thalantyr.

The one second passed, and then Xzar was suddenly pulled backwards, his heels colliding with the edge of the dais as he fell onto his back.

Montaron's foot pressed down hard on his neck. Xzar violently twisted and squirmed, his nails digging uselessly into the leathery, hair-covered limb. His eyes blazed hatefully up at the halfling's cold, blank face as he struggled to cast a spell despite being deprived of air.

No one else moved, watching the one-sided struggle of the two Zhents.

"Montaron!" Imoen shouted, her eyes widening as she saw Xzar's face began to pale as his partner pressed his foot down even harder.

Imoen started forward, straining against both Dorean and Khalid, when a hacking cough told her that Montaron had loosened his grip, if only just enough to let him breathe.

Twisting his head to the side, Xzar's eyes focused once more on Thalantyr, the bright green irises blazing with hatred. He snarled inarticulately, and a _**scream**_ erupted from his lips.

"Helm above, he's _mad -!_ " Ajantis exclaimed.

Xzar's arms reaching out towards Thalantyr despite the latter being more than fifteen paces away, and he screamed and shrieked for about five seconds before Montaron pressed down hard on his throat again.

Nobody moved, transfixed as they were, save for Imoen who again strained uselessly against the combined strength of Dorean and Khalid as Xzar once more gurgled and struggled, pounding his fist against Montaron's leg.

Then he suddenly stopped struggling, lying still and staring up at the ceiling.

For a long moment, there was no sound save for Xzar's heavy, wheezing breaths. The wizard turned his head again, this time looking at the horn and claw that had fallen and rolled to the other side of the dais.

He then laughed.

It started as a small, inaudible chuckle, then light snickering.

Then full-on, mouth-wide-open, head-tilted-back, belly-rumbling laughs.

Montaron kept his foot over his throat, yet this time made no attempt to silence him. His face remained blank while Xzar laughed and laughed and laughed, his eyes locked on the two artefacts all the while.

Then, with no warning, Xzar suddenly stopped, as though he was struck by a Silence spell.

He slowly turned his head away from the horn and the claw, and the party could no longer see his face.

Montaron removed his foot from the wizard's neck. He remained standing over him, looking even more lifeless than the flesh golem standing at the doorway.

Silence filled the chamber again.

It was then broken by a single, barely perceptible sob.

Imoen hesitated. Then, without looking at either of them, she slowly removed Dorean and Khalid's hands from her tunic, walked over to and climbed over the nearest shelf, then slowly approached the dais.

Montaron glanced at her. Imoen looked at him for a few seconds before walking around to stand next to him, looking down at the supine wizard.

Xzar was now completely silent, and would for all appearances seem asleep were it not for the tears flowing from his closed eyes.

Imoen looked down at him for a long moment. Everybody watched her.

She then sat down with both knees in front of her, removed a cloth from her belt, and began to dab at his face.

Xzar did not respond to the touch. He remained as still as the grave, the rise and fall of his chest the only sign that he was alive.

..

* * *

He was brought to the dormitory.

Thalantyr used the same spell he used on Imoen, hovering the necromancer in front of him and depositing him on one of the beds. He said very little, and after binding Xzar's hands and feet with magical rope, he instructed the party to keep watch over and to not untie him until it was time for them all to leave.

The store was now closed to them, and the flesh golem stationed at the only means of entry. Mundane provisions were now all that was available to them for purchase.

Kagain did not take it well, and had approached the bed with the intention to tear the restrained and unconscious Xzar apart with his bare hands. To the surprise of half of the party, Ajantis stepped in and planted himself between Kagain and the wizard, earning a string of threats and curses from the dwarf.

Dorean offered to cook for everyone. Thalantyr accepted, albeit reluctantly, before leaving to see to the store and replace the two artefacts. Imoen suspected that the old magus may not be as callous as he let on.

As Dorean and Jaheira waited for her near the doorway, Imoen removed the covers from another bed and carefully placed it over Xzar.

His eyes opened as she pulled it up to his chest.

"Get some rest," she told him. "I'll wake you when dinner's ready."

He did not say a word, instead watching her as she exited the dormitory with Dorean, Jaheira and Garrick. He ignored Ajantis, Eldoth and Khalid, all of whom were either standing or sitting near his bed. His eyes remained fixed on the spot where Imoen had disappeared from sight.  
Montaron sat in the ceiling rafters above Xzar's bed, peeling and eating a banana. He said nothing to anyone, and ignored their questions.

In the kitchen, Dorean, Imoen and Jaheira made an unspoken agreement not to speak of what happened in the store, at least not until they were gone from Thalantyr's home.

Garrick, however, peppered the supervising magus with questions on the claw and horn, only stopping after a thoroughly nettled Thalantyr threatened to use him to test his enchanted crossbow bolts.

"I was only curious," the minstrel replied, turning away to help Jaheira clean the vegetables.

..

* * *

Night fell in High Hedge, the wall-mounted candles in the building lighting and extinguishing themselves as Imoen and Jaheira made their way down the hallway towards the lobby, carrying a large metal pot of beef and vegetable stew between them.

Lene once again proved a blessing by preventing the mercenaries from squabbling to be the first to eat some hot food, ordering them into a line. Jaheira sternly refused to grant second portions, and when the last mercenary had filled his bowl, she promptly snatched the ladle out of his hands, turned on her heel and marched back down the hallway with the considerably lighter stew-pot in her hands.

In the dormitory, Ajantis and Khalid received their dinner gratefully, while Eldoth raised an eyebrow at the brown stew before quickly giving his thanks after Jaheira stated that he could simply decide to skip dinner.

Knowing that Montaron would help himself if he wished, Imoen ignored him, instead bringing a bowl over to Xzar. The wizard's eyes opened at her approach.

"I can't untie your hands," she said. "Sorry."

Xzar looked up at her, then silently sat up and allowed Imoen to spoon-feed him.

"I did this to Dorean once," she told him. "Said I wouldn't untie him unless he let me feed him. He didn't speak to me for days after." She smiled. "He always hated me treating him like a younger sibling."

"He doesn't hate it."

Imoen blinked and stared at Xzar.

"He is usually irritated. Sometimes frustrated," the wizard said quietly. "But he does not hate it."

Imoen slowly tilted her head, unsure of how to handle this unexpected response. "You think so?"

Xzar nodded. "'Hate' is not an emotion that he has reserved for you."

Imoen blinked quietly at him. Xzar blinked back, then looked down at the bowl of stew. She hesitated, then smiled warmly and fed the strange wizard the remainder of his dinner.

After he had finished, Xzar stared at the empty bowl and at her before silently lying back down and closing his eyes.

Imoen tucked the covers back over him, ignoring the looks from the rest of the party.

..

* * *

Dorean, Imoen and Garrick returned from cleaning the kitchen a half-hour later. By then, Ajantis, Eldoth and Jaheira had all gone to sleep, the latter after losing an argument with Khalid over who would stay awake to watch Xzar. Despite everything, the long march from the Coast Way to High Hedge had taken its toll on their stamina. Everyone badly needed rest.

Garrick yawned, went to and fell on the nearest empty bed without removing his armour, and fell asleep almost immediately.

Dorean went over to the nearest empty bed, which happened to be the one next to Xzar. He climbed onto it and sat with his back against the headboard, tilting his head back to look up at Montaron sitting in the rafters. He did not look away as Imoen sat down next to him.

"Not sleeping?" she asked, keeping her voice low.

"Mm."

She looked down at him. He was still dressed in the boy's tunic loaned from one of the mercenaries.

"Too much on your mind?"

He grunted again. She suppressed the urge to sigh and instead leaned back, joining him in looking up at the halfling.

"What are you thinking of, right now?" she asked.

"Right this second?"

"Yeah."

"I'm wondering if he ever sleeps."

"Montaron?" Imoen whispered. "That's a silly thing to wonder about."

"I don't think he's slept even once since we first met him."

Imoen opened her mouth and then closed it upon realizing that she too could not recall a moment in the past six days that Montaron had ever not been awake. "Now that you mention it..." She paused. "Hey, Monty?" she called softly. The halfling did not respond. "Do you sleep?"

"Shut up an' get some yerself."

Imoen scowled up at the anti-social assassin before blinking at Khalid approaching their bed.

"I d-don't think you should talk to him," said Khalid, sitting down at the foot of the bed and glancing up at Montaron. "He doesn't seem to l-like talking."

"What does he like, then?" Imoen asked.

"Eating," Dorean answered.

"Change the subject 'fore I come down there," said the ceiling-dwelling halfling. Khalid bristled, but then closed his eyes and took a deep breath before looking back to the two roommates.

"A-are you okay?" he asked Dorean. The dwarf blinked at him and then at Imoen.

"Is this about earlier with the crystal?"

"You just started...g-g-going towards it. You had me worried."

"I'm alright now. I was probably just...well, it's been a long day."

Khalid gave a gentle smile and nodded.

"What are you thinking of now?" asked Imoen.

"You're being nosy tonight," Dorean replied, though his voice was devoid of any annoyance.

"I know, it's just...we haven't really sat down and just _talked_ like this in a while." She paused. "It's only been six days since we left Candlekeep. Yet it feels...so much longer than that."

"You're t-thinking of home," Khalid said softly. Imoen blinked at him and then smiled.

"I guess it's the cleaning an' cooking. Done so much of it I can now do it with my eyes closed." A memory came to Imoen and she chuckled. "One time, Dorean and I tried to do all our chores blind-folded."

"Thanks for reminding me of that," the dwarf grumbled. "Reevor nearly killed me."

"C'mon, little brother, we've had worse exercises than that."

"I doubt it."

Khalid watched as Imoen and Dorean respectively grinned and frowned at each other, and a small yet sad smile came unbidden to his face.

It faded when Dorean uncurled the fingers of his left hand, revealing the Harper pin. All three of them gazed quietly at the object in Dorean's palm.

"...didn't even know I'd been holding it," the dwarf muttered. "Sometimes I...I'd just take it out and look at it." Dorean paused. "Six times. Once a day."

He slowly closed his fingers over the pin before returning it to his pocket.

Imoen wanted to hug him. To kiss his brow, tell him that it was going to be alright, that Gorion was in a better place where no one could ever hurt him.

But the look on his face told her that right then, right now, all those things would be the wrong ones to do.

"I want revenge," Dorean muttered. "More than anything. I can't stop wanting it. I don't want to die, but..."

"But you can't get it out of your head."

Dorean and Imoen looked up at Khalid. The man was still wearing his kind, gentle smile, but there was now an edge to his eyes; barely perceptible yet clearly there, even in the dim candlelight.

"If revenge is what you want," Khalid said quietly. "I will help you get it."

Dorean looked at him for a moment. He then simply nodded. His eyes suddenly narrowed as they flicked to look behind Khalid.

"She's watching us," he said quietly.

Imoen blinked before looking to the elven stranger. The woman was exactly in the same posture as before; sitting upright and watching them in complete silence.

"I'm starting to wonder if she is even real," said Imoen. "We _are_ in a wizard's home, after all."

"Good point," Dorean replied. Khalid did not turn around, though he leaned back with his eyes moving in the direction of the unknown elf.

"Do elves need to eat, Khalid?" Imoen asked. "I know that you're not a full elf, but..."

"I d-don't know," Khalid stammered. "Y-yes, I think?"

"Hmm," Imoen mused, pursing her lips in thought. "She might be hungry. Thalantyr may have forgotten to give her dinner. Wouldn't be surprised, with all that's happened since we showed up."

"Imoen..." said Dorean. Ignoring him, the pink-clad girl hopped off the bed, picked up her food-bag, looked through it, shrugged, and then promptly began crossing the dormitory towards the elf. "For Lathander's sake..." the dwarf muttered, hopping off the bed as well.

"Good evening, miss," Imoen greeted upon reaching the side of the elf woman's bed. "I want to apologize for earlier at dinner; I was serving everyone and forgot to ask if you wanted some too. Are you hungry?"

She held out the entire food-bag. The woman blinked and stared at it.

"Imoen," Dorean growled as he caught up to her with Khalid in tow. "I am very sorry if we have disturbed you, mi-"

The elf silently reached into the food-bag and drew out a chicken leg. She stared at it, at the trio, then took a bite and chewed slowly.

"Ah, so you _were_ hungry," said Imoen, clearly relieved that she had made the right choice. "Here," she added, turning to the bedside table and removing a plate, knife and fork from a side-pocket of the food-bag. The woman said nothing, watching Imoen place the utensils on the table.

"I don't have any drumlets left, and I don't know if you mind getting your hands dirty or if you have to NOT get them dirty - I was told you are a patient here - so here you go," Imoen said cheerfully.

She placed the food-bag on the floor, then removed and unwrapped several strips of meat before placing them on the plate. The woman blinked but remained quiet. Dorean sighed in exasperation as Imoen piled more food onto the plate.

"She's like that," he explained shortly. "Alright, Imoen, we've bothered her enough and it's late. Imoen?"

The girl was kneeling down to remove yet more food from the bag. She had frozen in place, and appeared to be staring at something under the woman's bed.

"Imoen?" said Khalid, moving behind her. He then too went still, eyes focused on the same spot.

Dorean's eyes flicked to the woman. He then moved from the foot to the bed to Imoen and Khalid.

He saw the belt propped up against the backpack, and instantly recognized the engravings of moons and ice.

The Belt of Antipode.

Dorean and Imoen's eyes flicked to each other, then to the woman. She did not look back. Instead, her eyes were focused on Khalid.

Slowly, Dorean and Imoen both turned their heads to look up at him.

Khalid's face was now like Montaron's; completely blank.

No one moved or spoke for five seconds.

"Kha-" Dorean began.

Khalid reached for the dinner knife. His fingers closed around it at the same instant that the elven woman drove the fork into his neck.


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38

Khalid did not immediately react.

For a moment, he went ramrod still, face blank and eyes fixed on his assailant.

His legs then crumbled beneath him.

Dorean and Imoen watched him fall to his knees, blood spraying from the fork in his neck. Their eyes then moved to the elf crouching on the bed in front of them, the dinner knife tightly gripped in her right hand.

For a half-second, there was no movement from any of them.

Then, without looking up, the elf reeled back just in time to avoid the knife.

She leapt back off the bed. Montaron followed her, slashing with wide, sweeping arcs and forcing her away from the Candlekeep roommates.

The sound of the first knife-parry was accompanied by a din of raised voices, the loudest of which was Jaheira's shouting Khalid's name.

Turning swiftly with the elf's parry, Montaron's left hand produced a second knife. She twisted away as it sliced her across the thigh, dropped her own weapon, grabbed a handful of his shirt and hoisted him clear off the ground.

Montaron plunged his second knife into her forearm an instant before he was thrown. There was a deafening **crunch** of wood as the back of his head struck and shattered the post of a nearby bed.

"Son of a bitch!" Maija screamed, her eyes ablaze as they focused on the elf's armour now revealed beneath her askew robe. The stranger turned to the mercenary, pulling Montaron's knife out of her arm. Her gaze swept over Eldoth and Garrick sitting up in their beds, the latter frozen in place with wide eyes while the former glanced calmly over at Montaron's still body.

Then a puma barrelled into her from the side, snarling and spitting, its claws tearing deep, and only by leaning back so far that she nearly fell over saved the elf's neck from its jaws.

The beast's attack was ferocious, but uncoordinated. Gritting her teeth, the elf drove Montaron's knife into its belly and then forced it off with her free hand, hissing as its claws wrenched and tore flesh from her chest and back.

She staggered, bloodied and breathing hard, then looked up at a shout of "Helm give me strength!" as an unarmed Ajantis charged straight at her.

She easily dodged his fist and slashed him across the face, the knife cutting deep into his nose. Her elbow shot up and struck his chin.

Ajantis dropped like a stone. The woman's gaze followed his descent for a half-second before a dart flew through the air and sank into her shoulder. Sparing only a second to remove and toss it to the floor, she looked up at Eldoth's out-stretched arm and grim smile, took two steps towards him and then fell to one knee.

Eldoth slowly slid out of his bed, his smile widening as he watched her attempt to rise. However, it then faded when she dropped Montaron's knife, pressed a bloodied hand to her shoulder, and uttered a single syllable. Light shimmered on her palm as she pressed it to her wound.

"Ranger..." Garrick whispered.

His expression turning grim again, Eldoth strode quickly towards her, jaw set and fists clenched.

The woman seemed to hesitate. Her eyes swept over the rest of the room's occupants before she nimbly rolled sideways to her feet, then threw open one of the double doors with her shoulder and staggered out.

"Son of a _bitch!_ " Maija screamed again. Eldoth watched with a raised eyebrow as the enraged mercenary leapt out of bed with a roar and sped out after the elf. He then took a moment to note Garrick's paled face and wide eyes before turning around to look over his other companions.

Ajantis, Montaron and the puma were all down. The squire and halfling were both motionless while the beast squirmed and twitched, a paw clamped over the wound in its belly.

Dorean and Imoen were both kneeling next to a supine Khalid, the dwarf's hand clamped around the fork imbedded in the half-elf's neck while Imoen tossed aside an emptied potion vial and scrambled in her pack for another.

Eldoth noted the thick, dark red puddle spreading across the floor around Khalid's neck, then pursed his lips as Garrick hurried towards them with a healing potion. He briefly considered telling them what a waste it would be, then sensed that Xzar, still bound hand and foot, had sat up in bed and was now staring straight at him.

Avoiding eye contact with the wizard, Eldoth remained silent and moved to the fallen puma, removing a healing potion from his belt.

..

* * *

When Maija's distant screams reached the lobby, Kagain paused a moment to mourn what could have been his first few hours of undisturbed rest in the past several days.

As the slumbering and exhausted mercenaries began to stir and the lookouts turned in surprise at the shouts coming from further inside the building, Kagain snatched up his axe and crossed the lobby into the corridor, stepping on a few of his men along the way.

Moving as fast as his booted feet could carry him, he rounded a corner to find the elven stranger about five paces away and running towards him.

They both skidded to a halt and stared at each other, the woman's eyes on his axe and Kagain's on her wounds. Before either of them could react, an unarmed Maija smashed headlong into the elf from behind, nearly propelling both of them off their feet as she struggled to get an arm around her neck.

"Got you now, you son of-"

The elf grabbed Maija's arm and threw the merc over her shoulder. Maija hit the floor rump first, one hand still clinging to her opponent's hair, and the elf placed one hand on the top of Maija's head and the other below her chin. She released and leapt back just in time to avoid Kagain's axe.

The dwarf swung again, and her hands shot up as she dodged, grabbing and pulling at the axe haft. Kagain's grip did not budge an inch, and she was forced to release the weapon as a heavy, steel-shod boot lashed out at her leg. Her dodge was off, however, and she stumbled as it connected with her shin.

"What in the sodding _hells_ is going on?!" Kagain roared, keeping his axe raised as he planted himself between Maija and the elf. "Did ya start this?!"

"It's him, boss!"

"What are ya-"

"It's _him!"_

Kagain's blue eyes narrowed as they focused on the obviously female elf steadying herself and clutching her injured leg. His face dropped upon seeing her armour.

"Aw, shit," he muttered. Of all the people to - !

With a strangled cry, Maija hurtled past Kagain, her hands stretched out towards the elf's neck. The latter again failed to dodge, her reflexes seemingly dulled, and was tackled to the ground by the speedy mercenary who then wrapped her hands around her enemy's throat.

Kagain's eyes narrowed as he saw the stranger's paling face and sweaty brow. _Was he - ?_

As the elf gasped for breath, Maija tightened her grip, squeezing the life out of her, then lowered her face close, her eyes blazing with seething, victorious hate.

"This is for Davy, you -"

A loud, sickening **thump** filled the air, and Maija's head snapped back before falling on top of the elf.

Kagain looked up just in time to see Thalantyr point his hand at him before something struck his face with the force of a thrown brick. His head too snapped back, but unlike Maija, he was not knocked out. He looked back in fury at Thalantyr, too stunned in that instant to dodge or charge.

"What the -"

Thalantyr raised his hand again, and Kagain's face was struck a second and third time. He stumbled back a step yet remained standing. Three more blows finally put him down.

He lay on his back for a moment, then groggily lifted his head to see Thalantyr rolling Maija off the elf. He grinded his teeth as he watched Thalantyr helping her to her feet, and alerted by the sound, the conjurer's hand shot up and Kagain's head hit the floor again as a seventh invisible brick struck his face.

"Ya lyin' _shit_..." he growled, almost immediately sitting up again.

At the sound of numerous approaching footsteps, Kagain, Thalantyr and the elf all looked up to see the Dented Shield mercenaries led by Lene appear around the corner with weapons in hand.

"Boss!" "Maija!"

Thalantyr raised his hand once more, causing Lene to stumble backwards as she ran straight into an invisible wall. He then pressed two vials which Kagain recognized as a healing potion and poison antidote into the elf's hands.

The dwarf snarled as he again attempted to rise, watching the conjurer hurriedly create a circular-shaped portal. He had just made it to his feet when Thalantyr, without saying a word, grabbed the unsteady elf by the shoulders and shoved her through the Dimension Door which then rapidly shrank out of sight.

The magus then turned to face him, ignoring the yells of the mercenaries as they pounded and hacked at the invisible wall with their weapons.

"We can discuss this like civilized men and business partners, Kagain, or like animals," he said loudly, standing tall and returning Kagain's furious glare. "I remind you again that this is _my_ home."

Kagain looked up at him, then at the unconscious Maija and the bloodstains left by the elf on the floor and walls. After a moment, he slowly looked back at Thalantyr.

"Yeah," he said at last, his voice echoing in the corridor. "We're civilized, an' we do business. So I ain't gonna kill ya."

Lene and the other mercenaries hesitated at their leader's words. They watched as Kagain released his axe, the weapon's heavy blade clattering loudly onto the floor.

"Instead," the dwarf announced, clenching his fists and stomping forward. "I'm gonna _beat the sodding shit outta ya!"_

Thalantyr sneered and raised his hand again as the dwarf charged.

..

* * *

"It's okay," said Dorean, struggling to keep his blood-slicked hand from slipping off Khalid's neck. "You're going to be okay, just keep looking at me. Imoen, where's that potion?"

Having spent several precious seconds rummaging through her pack, Imoen then turned it upside down, emptying the contents onto the floor. Books, wands and provisions were stained with Khalid's blood as she frantically sifted through the pile.

"Imoen, potion!" Dorean shouted.

"There isn't any more!" she yelled shrilly.

"I'm out too," said Garrick, tossing aside an empty vial. "This isn't working."

Dorean glanced up at the bard, then back down to Khalid as the latter vomited out the contents of the potion that Garrick had forced down his throat.

"See to Ajantis," Dorean ordered tersely. "If he can move, get him here _now_."

Without a second's hesitation, Garrick nodded and turned away.

"Imoen," said Dorean. The pink-clad girl's tear-streaked face turned towards him. "Get Xzar. Hurry."

She blinked twice before scrambling to her feet, nearly slipping in Khalid's blood, then hurried over to Xzar's bed and began fumbling at his bonds.

Dorean looked back down at Khalid, grimacing at the man's increasingly pale face and the blood oozing from his mouth.

A thought entered his mind, cold and clinical.

 _He'll be dead in the next minute._

Looking into Khalid's eyes, he knew that the man had realized it too.

Instead of expressing fear or anger, Khalid's eyes moved to the puma lying about five paces away. The beast's eyes were fixed on him as well, and its fur was slick with its own blood as it attempted to drag itself along the ground towards him. Eldoth was attempting to apply a healing potion to the puma's wound and looking increasingly flustered by its refusal to remain still.

Dorean saw Khalid's hand rise off the ground, reaching towards the puma.

An unexpected anger washed over him, and he fought down a sudden, overwhelming urge to slap Khalid. Instead, he increased the pressure of his hand over the half-elf's wound and brought his own face close to his.

"You are _not_ going to die here, you understand?" Dorean snarled.

Khalid blinked up at the furious dwarf.

Then Imoen and Xzar were kneeling next to them.

"Move your hands," said Xzar. His eyes met Dorean's, and for an instant that slowed down to an eternity, neither of them moved.

Dorean then obeyed and moved back. Leaning over Khalid, Xzar grasped the fork and pulled.

The blood-flow became a fountain. Imoen let out a choked cry.

Xzar clamped both hands hard over Khalid's neck, so much so that he was now throttling the man, then began to speak in a soft, hushed tone.

A memory suddenly rushed to Dorean's mind; eavesdropping on Winthrop and Gorion in the latter's office in Candlekeep, Winthrop translating and reading letters out loud to Gorion.

 _Auld Tharian._

Five seconds passed.

The blood flowing from beneath Xzar's hands slowed to a trickle. Khalid's eyes fluttered shut, and his breathing ceased. Several paces away, the puma let out a soft, anguished yowl.

Xzar kept muttering.

Dorean froze, eyes locking onto the top of Xzar's lowered head. His hand drifted towards his belt knife.

Xzar stopped.

For a full second, there was nothing.

Then colour instantly returned to Khalid's face, and his eyes slammed open to see Xzar's face looming above his.

The wizard slowly leaned back and removed his hands, revealing a bloodied yet whole and unscarred neck beneath Khalid's chin.

Dorean, Imoen and Garrick released their held breaths.

"Jaheira," Khalid whispered. He sat up and scooted forwards on his hands and feet towards the puma now lying on its side in a puddle of its own blood. It looked up at him as he reached it.

Khalid thrust an open hand towards Eldoth, who wordlessly handed him his half-empty healing potion. Dorean, Imoen, Xzar, Garrick and Eldoth watched as Khalid then ran over to his pack lying against a nearby bed, removed a small wooden bowl from it and hurried back to the puma's side.

Placing the bowl next to its mouth, Khalid emptied the remainder of the potion into the bowl, then grasped the puma's head and guided its jaws toward it. Blinking weakly, the beast lowered its head into the bowl and slowly lapped up the potion.

Dorean and Imoen exchanged looks before the latter moved to join Khalid next to the puma. The dwarf hesitated, glancing at Xzar who was watching Khalid, and remained in place.

The party looked on as the puma, having finished the potion, closed its eyes and purred quietly before morphing into the shape of a familiar female half-elf.

As she slowly sat up on her knees, Khalid kept his hands on her head, brushing her hair out of her eyes.

"Are you a-alright?"

"...yes," Jaheira answered, wincing in pain and clutching her stomach. "Yes, I am."

Khalid smiled.

Then without warning, his two-handed grip on her head tightened and he started shaking her.

"Wha-?! Khali-?!"

"I t-t-told you a t-t-thousand times, Jaheira! N-n-n-never s-shapeshift!"

"Khalid - !" Jaheira shouted, her hands shooting up to grasp Khalid's.

"You p-promised me n-never t-to do it!"

"Khalid, let go!"

"Not after l-last time!"

"I can handle it, that was one ti-"

"It was t-t- _three!_ Three times! And e-every time you nearly _died!_ How could you be so foolish?!"

"ME?! What about _you?!_ What happened, why did she attack you?!"

"A good question. One I was about to ask."

Everyone save the unconscious Montaron and Ajantis looked up or spun around.

Thalantyr stood in the doorway, head slowly moving as his eyes scanned the room.

From the corner of his eye, Dorean noticed Garrick stowing Eldoth's dart and Montaron's knives in his shirt. The bard caught the dwarf's eye and winked without otherwise altering his expression.

Thalantyr spent a moment meeting everyone's eyes, frowning at the sight of the unrestrained Xzar and lingering on Khalid's cold, hard glare, before moving further into the room. More than one pair of eyebrows creased into frowns as the magus limped slowly forward, favouring his right leg.

"I am waiting for an answer," Thalantyr said coldly. "And I am curious as to why you are all hesitating to speak."

"How 'bout I hazard a sodding guess?" a voice called from beyond the doorway.

Without turning around, Thalantyr growled and glowered as Kagain stomped inside. The dwarf's face was now covered in purple bruises, the left half grotesquely swollen with his left eye blackened and swelled shut.

"Someone here figured that our host didn't bother ta tell us that the swish he's had staying here is a soddin' crazed killer."

"He is not a crazed-" Thalantyr began.

"Like hell he's not," Kagain snapped. "He's a sodding psycho who killed three'a my men, an' ya brought him in here, _an' look at what he's soddin' done!_ "

The glare that Thalantyr turned onto Kagain could have melted a glacier, in contrast to the icy glares now directed by Jaheira and Khalid toward the magus himself.

"Is that true?" asked Jaheira, her voice and expression like granite. "You harboured a murderer and did not warn us?"

Thalantyr's eyes flashed, and Dorean involuntarily leaned back as the magus rounded on Jaheira.

"Who started this?" he demanded, eyes sweeping over the party and lingering on Xzar. "Who attacked first, him or you?"

"He did."

Fortunately for the party, Thalantyr immediately turned to Garrick, thus failing to notice the collective stares directed at the bard.

"The ranger, I mean," Garrick added, swallowing nervously under Thalantyr's scrutiny. "Khalid, Imoen and Dorean went to him and offered him food. When they saw his belongings under his bed, he attacked them. This was all self-defence."

Thalantyr's eyes narrowed as they focused on Garrick's young, boyish face, and he planted his hands on his hips.

"Sounds right ta me," said Kagain. "Bloody friggin' soddin' _psycho."_

"Because he killed your men?" Thalantyr replied without turning around.

"Not just my men. Travellers an' merchants too. Unarmed ones, I might add! An' ya let that animal into ya house? Gave 'im a bed ta sleep in?"

An ugly sneer appeared on Thalantyr's face as he slowly turned around to look at Kagain.

"If I had warned you, you would have tried to kill him," he said coldly.

Kagain's beard lifted as he barred his teeth. "Ya insult me, Thalantyr. Ya sayin' I would disrespect the rules'a ya house?"

"This coming from you, after what you _just_ did to me?" Thalantyr replied, his voice rising with every syllable.

"That was payment," Kagain snarled back, his uninjured eye flashing. "Fer lyin' ta me an' puttin' my people at risk. If I was gonna violate ya rules, I would've killed ya an' be done with it."

"You thuggish, hypocritical little-"

 _"Shut up, **Shut. Up!"**_

Kagain and Thalantyr's faces dropped. Both men remained still for a moment before slowly turning to join the rest of the party in staring at Dorean.

The dwarf glared at both of them, his thin chest rising and falling and his brown, blood-stained beard fluttering with deep, heavy breaths.

"Khalid, Jaheira," he said without taking his eyes off Kagain and Thalantyr. "Do a thorough check. Make sure you're both properly healed. The rest of you, see to Ajantis and Montaron. Do it now."

A few seconds passed in silence before the party moved to obey Dorean's orders. Xzar lingered a moment, glancing at him with half-lidded eyes, before quietly following Imoen towards where Montaron lay motionless at the broken bed.

Standing up, Dorean marched across the room, Khalid's blood trailing and dripping in his wake, and stopped directly in front of Thalantyr.

"Master Thalantyr," he said, his voice cold and regal. "Am I correct in assuming that you now wish to be rid of us more than ever?"

"Hold on a minute, nugget!" said Kagain. "Ya just gonna let this bastard throw us-"

"No, Master Kagain, I am not," Dorean replied. Kagain stopped in mid-gesticulation as the smaller dwarf's steely gray eyes briefly focused on him before looking back to Thalantyr. "On that note, Master Thalantyr; is our earlier agreement still intact?"

The magus slowly lifted his chin, staring past his nose at Dorean. He then lifted his gaze to where Khalid and Jaheira were still glaring at him, then back to the dwarf.

"If it is," he said slowly. "What then?"

"We leave for Beregost, with your aid," Dorean answered coolly. "We will be out of your hair, and you of ours, as quickly as possible."

Thalantyr paused, then glanced sideways at Kagain who glowered at him but otherwise said nothing.

After a moment, the magus turned around and slowly hobbled out of the room, clutching his left leg.

Without looking at Kagain, Dorean turned around and crossed the room, his socks squelching on Jaheira's and Khalid's blood, until he reached the elven stranger's bed.

Dragging the pack out from underneath it, he stared down at the Belt of Antipode for a moment before placing it on his shoulder and then moving to help Garrick treat Ajantis.

..

* * *

Kivan stumbled yet again, falling face-first into the grass.

He lifted his head, gritted his teeth so hard his gums bled, and raised himself up to his hands and knees.

The wounds were not a problem. He had suffered worse.

But the poison...

Thalantyr's antidote was spent, along with his own power.

Yet still it coursed through him, slowly sapping his strength.

He tried and failed to get his feet beneath him.

His legs were dead now.

 _One more mile. Just one more mile to the cabin._

 _Crawl. **Crawl.**_

He lifted one arm, moved it a few inches forward, then collapsed completely.

His own voice echoed in his head, calm and serene.

 _You are going to die here._

Another voice, also his yet furious. Deviant.

 _No. Not yet. Not. **Yet.**_

Figures loomed into view above him.

One of them pointed at his armour with its sword, speaking excitedly to its companions.

Something appeared, barrelling into one of them, and they turned as others figures appeared, hunched and clawed and slathering.

Shouts. Snarls. The sounds of metal and claws on flesh. Screams.

Then quiet.

He lay still, listening to the slow, lessening thud of his own heart.

Something loomed over him, leaning close.

A beard. A pipe. A hat.

"Yes..." the three of them said. "You shall be a fine servant for Tiax."


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

The world around him was distorted; trees, hills and rocks spiralled and swirled all around him. Nevertheless, Ajantis knew exactly where he was.

He cast his gaze downward to the blood-stained grass and mud, then slowly turned around to face a blond, messy-haired boy no more than sixteen years of age.

"You failed them," the youth said, his voice soft and kind.

Ajantis said nothing. The boy smiled warmly and raised a hand to Ajantis' face. His fingers barely caressed the squire's nose and it suddenly _burned_ like a fire had been lit within.

The sunlit woodland disappeared and the boy's face became that of another with similarly youthful features.

"Stay still," Garrick told him, dapping his face again with the wet cloth.

Ajantis blinked, and the movement of his eye-lids sent a _wave_ of needle-like pain crashing through his skull. He groaned and shut his eyes.

He became aware that he was sitting up on the floor. Someone was kneeling – no, standing – behind him with their hands on his back, keeping him propped up while Garrick held the cloth against his torn nose. The cloth's scent filled his senses, and he recognized the aroma of a healing potion.

The memory came back to him.

 _The elven woman, her arm flowing blood, effortlessly dodging his punch. A flash of reflected candlelight on the blade of her knife as it rushed towards his face._

 _And before..._

Pain stabbed through his head again as his eyes snapped open.

"Khalid," he breathed. "Jaheira."

"Sir Ilvarstarr -" said Garrick. Ignoring him, Ajantis attempted to move. The fire in his nose spread throughout his head, and he clenched his jaw and pressed a hand to the cloth over his face as he looked around. Bile filled his throat as his eyes roved over the blood-stains on the floor. Relief then flooded him as he spotted Khalid and Jaheira, dishevelled and bloodied yet on their feet.

"Thank Helm," he muttered, wincing as his mouth formed the words through his fractured jaw. "The elf. Where…"

"Escaped, no thanks to the sodding lot'a ya," Kagain's voice answered from somewhere behind him.

"Can you move?" another voice asked, right behind him, and Ajantis realized that the one holding him up from behind was Dorean. "We have someone in need of healing."

"Dorean," said Garrick. "He's wounded, we shouldn't have him moving arou–"

"Where?" said Ajantis, forcing the word out through his numb jaw.

Dorean pointed. Keeping one hand on the cloth, Ajantis used the other to push himself up off the floor. He grunted as more needles pierced the inside of his head, rising slowly to his feet.

"About sodding time," Kagain's voice snapped somewhere to his right. Ajantis ignored him and hobbled past Khalid and Jaheira to where Imoen and Xzar were kneeling at the remnants of the smashed bed.

Montaron lay on his side in the pile of broken wood. His eyes were closed, and his face, normally blank or bored-looking when it wasn't scowling, now looked peaceful. The sheets around his head were stained red.

"I've tried everything," a blood-covered Imoen said, her voice anxious and shaking as she pressed what looked like a smelling salt under Montaron's nostrils. "But he won't wake up."

The memory slowly came back to Ajantis; Montaron hurtling backwards through the air, hitting the bed-post head-first and crumbling to the floor in a shower of splinters.

"Concussion," Xzar said softly, feeling over his partner's scalp. "Serious. Possible brain damage." The wizard's eyelids lowered as he gazed down at his unmoving partner. He then glanced over his shoulder at Ajantis. "He may never wake up."

Ajantis' mind recalled Montaron outside Thalantyr's estate, drawing back his arm to hurl a dagger at a child.

 _A fitting end, then, for a heartless murderer._

A second passed, and something far worse than the pain washed over him as he reminded himself that Montaron had fought to protect the party from the elven madwoman, and had done a better job of it than he had.

"If he's dead, I ain't the one takin' the fall fer it," Kagain's voice growled loudly from behind them.

Ajantis turned and fixed the callous dwarf with a cold glare, off-handedly noting his heavily-bruised face and swollen-shut eye. Kagain met his gaze with a sneer, then slowly and deliberately spat on the floor between them before turning around and stomping towards the door. "Lobby in ten minutes," he barked as he marched out.

Ajantis glared after him for a moment before turning back to Montaron. Xzar was still watching him, and his brow furrowed as Ajantis removed the wet cloth from his face, dropping it to the floor as he stepped forward.

"How is the wound?" he asked, his eyes moving to the blood-stained sheets around Montaron's head.

"I've sealed it," said Imoen, her voice still shaking as she put away the smelling salt. "Why won't he-?"

"Insomnia," said Xzar. Everyone looked at him. "A side-effect of his addiction to stamina potions."

"Well," said Eldoth after a second's silence. "That explains _some_ of his personality at least."

"If he has that on top of the concussion, I doubt he would wake up any time soon," said Garrick, walking over to stand next to Ajantis.

The squire noticed at this moment that neither Khalid nor Jaheira had said a word; they both stood silently together as the rest of the party crowded around Montaron. Ajantis grimaced as he recalled their open hostility towards the halfling. He then turned back to Montaron and stepped forward. "I'll carry him."

Xzar and Imoen looked up at him, the latter's eyes widening in concern as Ajantis slowly hobbled over and kneeled next to them. "You're hurt, Ajantis," she said. He grunted in response but otherwise ignored her.

Xzar's eyes narrowed as the squire bent down to bring his hands beneath Montaron's shoulders and legs. Grunting again from both the exertion and the pain rattling in his skull, Ajantis attempted to lift the halfling off the floor.

Xzar then reached out, grasped Montaron's left hand in his right, and broke an index finger.

A knife plunged upwards through Xzar's palm and a hairy, leather-soled foot shot up and struck Ajantis' face.

Everyone else pulled back from Montaron as he leapt to his feet.

"Montaron, it's us!" Dorean shouted. "Calm down, we mean you no-!"

" _Shut up!"_ Montaron yelled, brandishing his knife.

The room fell silent save for his rasped, hoarse breathing.

Ajantis lay flat on his back, eyes closed and both hands clamped over his mouth and chin.

Xzar slowly rose to his feet, ignoring the blood flowing from his right hand. He returned Montaron's furious glare with a half-lidded smile.

"Montaron," Imoen said, slowly stepping forward. "You need to sit down. You've got a con- "

Montaron's left hand shoved her hard in the stomach. Imoen hit the floor, landing on her back and sliding a few paces before coming to a stop. She laid still for a moment before slowly lifting her head.

Montaron did not so much as glance at her. He continued to glare at Xzar, coal-black eyes filled with venomous hate. The wizard's bright green eyes stared back, though now they were wide, and his smile was gone.

A moment passed.

Without taking his eyes off Xzar, Montaron's right hand slowly reached up, still gripping the bloody knife, and he realigned his broken finger.

He turned away and staggered forward. The party moved to let him through, watching him as he reached his pack which lay directly below his previous spot in the ceiling rafters.

Maintaining a one-handed grip on his knife, Montaron removed a water-skin from the pack, cursed loudly as he dropped it, snatched it up, brought it to his lips, drained the contents in one go, and then dumped it onto the floor. Without a word or a glance at the party, he turned and staggered out of the room, dragging his pack behind him.

"You didn't have to do that," Ajantis mumbled from the floor, breaking the silence.

Xzar looked down and tilted his head to the side as he gazed at the paladin. Ajantis recalled the wizard's rage and subsequent anguish back in Thalantyr's shop, and Montaron stopping him from attacking the magus.

"We need to see to that hand," said Imoen, standing up and walking over to Xzar.

Xzar's head snapped to face her, all malice on his face instantly drained as he took a step back from the approaching girl. Imoen stopped, then put her hands on her hips and sighed as Xzar backed further away from her until he collided with one of the beds, nearly falling onto it.

He flinched again when Jaheira stepped forward, her face blank and unreadable.

"Hand," she said flatly.

Everyone stared. After a moment, as though he expected her to bite or sever it, Xzar slowly raised his wounded hand. Jaheira wordlessly placed both of her own hands on it and muttered a brief prayer. The bleeding ceased, and the wounds closed. Removing her hands, Jaheira wordlessly stepped back and returned to Khalid's side. She did not look at Xzar, instead quietly meeting the stares from the rest of the party.

After a moment, Dorean went over to Ajantis and offered his hand. Ajantis took it without hesitation, rising slowly and unsteadily to his feet.

"Eldoth," said the dwarf. "Could you help him?"

The bard raised an eyebrow for a second before quietly stepping forward. "Of course."

"Thank you."

Without waiting to hear Ajantis' words of protest or thanks, Dorean patted the squire on the knee before joining Imoen in checking on Khalid.

As Eldoth led Ajantis to the beds where they had left their packs, the latter's eyes lingered on Xzar who was staring at Khalid blushing as Imoen hugged him and Dorean questioned Jaheira on her husband's health as well as her own.

He then turned away, too tired, dazed and in pain to think further, and gratefully accepted Eldoth's offer to help him with his pack.

..

* * *

"So Thalantyr was knowingly harbouring a murderer," said Ajantis, keeping a hand pressed to his newly-healed jaw.

"Yes."

"And he decided not to inform us of it."

"To be fair, he told us that if he had, Kagain would have tried to kill him."

Ajantis glanced at Eldoth who, despite the former's protests, was leading him along the corridor with one hand lightly yet firmly gripping his forearm.

"Offering shelter to one of evil and unprovoked violence," Ajantis said grimly. "And those monstrous golems, and the unholy artefacts in his shop…"

"You are speaking of the claw and horn?" Eldoth inquired.

"The stench of evil is in this place. I feel it now, as though it were in my very bones. If I had sensed it sooner…"

Eldoth's eyebrow rose once more, and he glanced ahead of them at Xzar who was shuffling his feet and shooting looks at Imoen and Jaheira, of whom the latter was holding Khalid's hand.

"Perhaps it would be best if we all leave as soon as possible," the bard suggested.

"Yes," Ajantis agreed. "Lest I do something we may all regret."

Eldoth said nothing further.

The sounds of movement and chatter greeted the party well before they reached the lobby, and soon they found themselves before a group of tired and unhappy Dented Shield mercenaries, including an irate Maija who was muttering under her breath while furiously running a whetstone over the blade of her axe.

Montaron was sitting against the wall next to the double doors. His face, only minutes before contorted with rage, had returned to its usual bored indifference. He did not look up at the party's approach, and Kagain did not so much as glance at him as he turned to address the party.

"About sodding time," he growled. "Don't keep me waitin' like this again."

Imoen scowled as he turned and hollered, "On your feet!" The Dented Shields obeyed, albeit with groaning and muttered grumblings.

"Any sign of the Flaming Fist?" said Jaheira.

"Lookouts heard what sounded like fightin' from far off not long after the elf escaped," Kagain replied, ignoring a loud snarl from Maija as she ran her axe-blade over the whet-stone again. "If that maniac's distracted them, then all the better for us."

"From what I have heard of Benjamin Farrahd, I doubt he'll let that distract him from us for long," said Garrick.

"Was I talkin' to ya, music-boy?" Kagain retorted. "Shut ya mouth an' get ya crap. Kept me waitin' long enough."

With a few scowls and glares at the boorish dwarf, the party retrieved their weapons and followed the mercenaries as Kagain led his men back into the interior of the building, this time taking turns and directions not leading to either the shop or the ward. After several minutes, the party followed the Dented Shields around a corner to find Thalantyr awaiting them at what appeared to be a dead-end, leaning on a staff in his right hand.

The magus wasted neither time nor words at their appearance, placing his left hand on the wall behind him and softly muttering an indistinct incantation. The smooth brick appeared to melt, leaving the wall in what looked to be a state of liquidation while remaining intact.

None of the mercenaries said a word; apparently, Kagain had given his men very clear instructions in regard to Thalantyr. They marched straight past him into the portal, many of them shooting looks at the magus which ranged from unfriendly to downright hostile. Thalantyr stood tall and met every single one, staring them down as they moved past and disappeared into the depths of the portal.

Maija slowed as she neared, glaring openly at him and tapping her fingers on the haft of her axe in a manner reminiscent to Kagain's. Thalantyr's eyes narrowed, his left arm hanging loose at his side while the other lightly gripped his staff. Lene then moved up behind Maija with two strides of her long, tree-trunk sized legs, placed her large hands on Maija's shoulders and roughly frog-marched her into the portal before the latter could react.

The party including Kagain was then left alone with Thalantyr. The old magus coolly returned the collective glares of Jaheira, Khalid and Ajantis.

"What are ya waitin' for, a farewell speech?!" Kagain snapped.

"What are _you_ waiting for?" Imoen retorted, side-stepping Dorean's elbow. Kagain snarled at her, and she mockingly snarled back.

"For Lathander's sake _, stop it!"_ Dorean ordered. "Especially you," he added to Imoen, who pouted down at him. "Kagain," Dorean continued sternly, turning to face the mercenary leader. "I understand you're upset, but- "

"Ya gonna tell me what ta do now, nugget?" Kagain growled. "I'm gettin' sick of ya yellin' at me an' givin' me ord- "

"Don't interrupt me."

Everyone stared at Dorean, even Montaron. Kagain's face momentarily slackened as he gazed at the quiet yet fierce resolve in the smaller dwarf. His white beard then twitched, a now-familiar sign of his temper, and his uninjured eye narrowed. Khalid and Jaheira both quietly moved to stand behind Dorean, Jaheira still holding Khalid's hand.

"I understand you're upset," Dorean repeated slowly. "But I do not want any more violence here tonight, despite whatever grievance you have with Master Thalantyr."

"I agree," said Jaheira. "As much as I may wish a confrontation myself," she glanced at the old magus, and her grip on Khalid's hand tightened. "It would be better for all of us if we leave now."

Kagain's eyes moved from Dorean to Jaheira and back again. His beard twitched in a sneer. "Ya ain't nearly as sharp as ya like ta think, nugget," he said softly.

Dorean said nothing. Kagain gave a snort. "I wanna have a word with 'im. Nothin' more."

"Really."

"Yes, really," Kagain replied. "Hard as it might be for ya ta believe, nugget, I ain't the type ta use my axe for everythin'. So ya can rest easy; I ain't gonna start somethin' with the old bastard."

Dorean briefly glanced at Thalantyr; the wizard was now frowning at Kagain's back, though he remained silent.

"Very well, Master Kagain," Dorean said calmly. "We have your- "

He froze, staring past Kagain. The rest of the party followed his gaze to where Xzar now stood directly in front of Thalantyr.

"How did he-?!" Ajantis breathed, his gaze darting back to where Xzar had been standing behind him.

"Your servant," Xzar said, his voice a whisper yet somehow loud enough for everyone to hear. "I will find him."

Thalantyr's eyes went wide. He raised both his staff and his free hand, hurriedly casting what appeared to be a defensive spell. Montaron had already started forward at a run. Khalid and Jaheira began to push Dorean and Imoen behind them.

"I will do to him what you have done to my friend," Xzar said quickly, the words rushing out of him. His lips parted in a grin, and light from the energy gathering in Thalantyr's left hand reflected in his eyes. "I will take his hands and his skull and his _teeth_ and- "

Xzar suddenly froze completely, the grin still fixed on his face.

Montaron stopped as well, one hand gripping a small dagger.

Xzar remained very still. Only his eyes moved, slowly revolving to his left where Imoen now stood on tip-toe, her thumb and fore-finger pinching his cheek.

"Xzar," she said, her voice soft and slow and **dangerously** sweet. "We have all had a rough night. And I would _appreciate_ …" she moved her thumb slightly, sliding it across his cheek. "Ya not makin' it any rougher." She smiled. "Okay?"

"Enn."

"Thank you," Imoen said brightly. She released him, lowering her hand to her side. Xzar remained very still, staring straight ahead with his grin still in place.

"Xzar, would you kindly go through the portal and then wait for us? We'll be _right_ behind you, don't you worry."

"Nnee."

"Very well."

Imoen gestured to the portal. Xzar's eyes darted to it and then back to where they were looking straight ahead. After a moment, he turned towards it, his movements stiff and rigid like a poorly-made marionette, and walked through it without looking to the right or left.

Imoen smiled at Thalantyr and the rest of the party, then promptly stepped through the portal herself. Growling under his breath, Montaron followed her.

There was a collective pause. The spell in Thalantyr's hand winked out. Eldoth raised his eyebrow yet again.

"We should follow them," said Garrick.

Without further ado, the party obeyed his suggestion, Dorean leading them with a nod to Thalantyr. Their footsteps ceased as they all entered the portal, save for Kagain who remained in place.

Thalantyr stared at the portal where the rest of the party had vanished from sight. After a moment, he turned to the dwarf.

"Whatever you want to say, say it," he said quietly. "Then get out."

Kagain glared at him. He paused for a few seconds, then walked towards Thalantyr, his steel boots clanking on the floor. He stopped a few paces from the old mage, looking up at his face.

"How long?"

Thalantyr blinked, though he continued to glare at Kagain. After a moment, he lifted his head and breathed deeply through his nose.

"Six days."

"An' ya guys?"

"The same. Two of them reported to me this morning. Still no sign of him."

"He's dead, then."

"What do you care?" Thalantyr snarled, clenching his left fist as he glared down at the dwarf. "Why are you asking me? You want to rub it in? Make me feel worse?"

"I'm sayin', don't try an' get ya hopes up."

"Get the hell out of my house."

Kagain looked up at Thalantyr, his bearded face unreadable. He then turned, took a step towards the portal, and stopped.

"Did ya know?"

"Know what?" Thalantyr snapped.

"That the elf killed my men."

Thalantyr hesitated, though only for a second. "Yes," he answered firmly.

Kagain was silent for a moment, his eyes downcast. Without another word, he silently stepped through the portal.

Thalantyr glared at it for several seconds before turning away and sweeping his arm. The portal dissipated, returning the wall to its normal state and leaving him alone in the dim light of the wall-mount torches as he strode down the corridor back to his study.

..

* * *

Kivan blinked slowly; once, twice, then a third time. The beard, pipe and hat remained intact. They loomed closer, filling his vision.

 _Hallucination._

Despite his efforts, the poison had only been slowed, not stopped, and now it had paralyzed his limbs and damaged his mind.

The truth set in, breaking through his rage; there was nothing he could do except to wait for death.

There was simply nothing to be done.

His anger ebbed away, his breathing slowed, and he closed his eyes. The grass felt warm in the summer heat.

 _Deheriana…I have failed. Forgi-_

Something rolled him onto his back and pressed down on his throat. His eyes slammed open and he tried to grab whatever was choking him. His arms refused to budge.

Abruptly, his throat was released, and he felt something press _hard_ into his forehead and peel back his eye-lids. His mouth was then forced open and covered.

He could not resist, not even to lift a finger or to bite down. He stared up at the beard, pipe and hat.

 _What is-_

Something _flew_ into his mouth, down his gullet, and _exploded_. It filled his stomach, his chest, his limbs.

A starburst exploded in his head, and he closed his eyes tight. A long moment passed before he opened them again.

A face was leaning over and studying him, a hat on its head and an unlit pipe between its teeth. Its brown beard fluttered in the wind, tickling Kivan's chin and neck.

 _A gnome._

"Thou are cured!" it shouted in his face. "Arise and walk, that thou shall follow and serve Tiax in his grand journey!"

The gnome stepped back. Kivan stared at it before realizing that he had turned his head to follow it. He sat up slowly, keeping his eyes on the gnome, then made a quick sweep of his surroundings and immediately reached for his belt.

Two ghasts, their tall, slender bodies reeking of rot and decay and their teeth and claws slick with blood, stood no more than several paces away. The ground was stained as well, doubtless with blood, the liquid ink-black in his infravision.

Five bodies lay unmoving in the grass, swords and bows clutched in their hands. All of them bore the standard of the Flaming Fist.

Kivan's eyes darted back to the ghasts and then to the gnome who was using his foot to kick up a long quarterstaff off the ground into his hand. His hand searched his waist for a knife that wasn't there, and he realized two things; that he was no longer wearing the cursed belt and had returned to the form of a man, and that he had left his weapons and pack in Thalantyr's home.

"You slaughtered these men," he said, standing up and facing the gnome.

"Dullards who would have dared harm Tiax's servant! Fear not! They have been sent to Cyric, and t'will be judged worthy of his forgiveness or his wrath!"

"Cyric," said Kivan. "The Mad God."

"Mad?!" the gnome - apparently named Tiax - shouted, waving his quarterstaff. "Mad?! The petulant cry of those too blind to see that which is right before their eyes! Mad, you say? Pfeh!"

One of the ghasts turned its head in Kivan's direction, blood dripping from its maw. Kivan swiftly bent down and grabbed a sword lying next to the nearest corpse. He held it one-handed, the tip pointed low at Tiax's face.

"Mad? _They_ call _him_ mad?" Tiax said, ignoring the sword. Kivan held the weapon steady as the gnome began to pace back and forth, muttering under his breath before suddenly stopping to point a finger past the blade at Kivan.

"You are milksopped and ignorant, and you lack respect. HOWEVER," he suddenly yelled, so loud from one so small that Kivan flinched. "Ignorance can be remanded, and thou has yet time to learn to respect thy masters."

Kivan blinked.

"Enough idle talk!" Tiax shouted. "There is work yet to be done! Come, servant!"

He marched away with quarterstaff in hand, the two ghasts following him. He got ten paces before stopping and turning around to see that Kivan had not moved.

"What is this?" Tiax said, squinting and tilting his head to the side. "Have ye no ears to hear? Tiax shall grant them, if thou wishes. Let it not be said that Cyric does not provide for his servants!"

Kivan glared at him. His eyes went to the dead Flaming Fist scouts and then back to Tiax who suddenly fell silent, though his expression did not change.

The ghasts stood still while the gnome and elf watched each other. A long moment passed.

Kivan then lowered his sword and walked away. He heard no movement from either Tiax or the ghasts, and did not look back.

..

* * *

When the column of mercenaries ahead of them abruptly halted and began to sit down on the floor of the tunnel, the party halted as well. The half-orc Lene appeared from further along the column and briefly informed them that Kagain had called for a four-hour rest in lieu of their interrupted sleep in High Hedge.

Imoen was hungry and exhausted, and after only a minute of arguing with Dorean, she handed him her food-bag after removing a ration of salted pork, patted Khalid on the arm, and sat down cross-legged to devour her meal.

Garrick placed his sword, crossbow and bolt quiver up against the tunnel wall and laid on his side facing the weapons, using his pack as a pillow. He was asleep within seconds. Ajantis, who was bringing the minstrel a salted pork ration, stopped upon seeing the slumbering bard, then wrapped the food in brown paper and placed it next to his pack. He then went over to the dwarf and half-elves.

"You should get some rest, Ajantis," said Dorean, adding as the squire opened his mouth to protest, "No telling when we'll get another chance."

Ajantis hesitated, looked at Jaheira and Khalid, then reluctantly nodded and moved off to find a spot to sit.

"I do not trust these mercenaries to watch over us," Jaheira said quietly. "I will take the first watch."

"Jaheira, I'm not t-tired at all- "

"You were stabbed through the neck only four hours ago and lost enough blood to fill a basin," Jaheira said bluntly.

"And _you_ n-need to m-meditate," Khalid replied.

The couple frowned at each other. After a moment, Jaheira's shoulders slumped, though her frown did not waver.

"Wake me in one hour."

"Ye- "

" _Don't_ let me sleep a minute longer."

With a glance at Dorean, Jaheira turned and walked to a spot a few paces from Imoen. Khalid spared a moment to watch her sit down cross-legged and place her quarterstaff across her knees.

"I'll join you," Dorean told him. Khalid looked down at the calm, resolute dwarf who was still carrying the Belt of Antipode around his small shoulders. He then smiled and nodded before making his way to the rear of the party, Dorean following behind him.

They passed by Eldoth and Xzar, both of whom were sitting directly opposite from each other against the wall. Dorean nodded to them while Khalid ignored them completely. Eldoth, despite his pleasant smile, was clearly discomforted by Xzar's long, unblinking stare. He nevertheless remained where he sat, and Dorean glanced back at them as he followed Khalid.

It took them nearly ten paces until they saw Montaron; he was about twenty paces ahead, sitting cross-legged with his back to them and facing the direction from which they had travelled. He had not removed his pack or short-sword from his back.

"Seems he's volunteered for the first watch as well," Dorean said quietly. Khalid said nothing, staring at Montaron's back.

After breathing through his nose in an audible sigh, Dorean walked past him towards Montaron who did not respond to his approach. Removing a small bottle of moonshine along with another wrapping of salted beef from Imoen's foodbag, Dorean stopped beside him and wordlessly held them out.

A few seconds passed. Then, without so much as a glance at him, Montaron took the offerings and placed them on the ground next to him.

Dorean walked back to Khalid and sat down against the wall, placing his crossbow and bolt quiver on his left while carefully putting down the Belt of Antipode along with his and the elven woman's packs on his right.

Khalid spent several more seconds looking at Montaron before unbuckling his sword, removing his tower shield and pack from his back and then sitting down next to Dorean across from the dwarf's two packs, putting himself between Dorean and Montaron.

They sat in silence, Khalid eating a ration of salted beef while Dorean had an apple. Montaron did not touch his food, remaining still save for the slight movement of his shoulders as he breathed, and after Khalid gave a fifth glance down the tunnel at the halfling's back, Dorean removed a bottle of moonshine from Imoen's foodbag and held it out to him. The Calishite blinked, then smiled and shook his head.

They had finished their food and were drinking from their water-skins when the familiar _clunk_ of steel-shod boots alerted them to Kagain's approach long before the mercenary leader appeared.

"Enjoyin' yourselves?" he asked sarcastically.

"How is Maija?" said Dorean before Khalid could answer.

"None'a ya sodding business."

"Fair enough," Dorean replied mildly. Kagain's scowl deepened. "Everything quiet at the front?"

"Think my guys don't know how ta keep a lookout?"

"We're in the Upperdark, aren't we?"

Silence struck the tunnel section. Kagain and Khalid stared at Dorean. Twenty paces away, Montaron turned his head very slightly in their direction.

"We're over two miles beneath the surface," said Dorean. "And from the echos, some of the passages we bypassed go _very_ deep. This tunnel also has signs of frequent use, so there may be others aside from us who have used it." He paused. "Are we really safe here, Kagain?"

Kagain was silent, though only for a few seconds. His glower swiftly returned as he snorted at the other dwarf. "Not if ya three clowns keep an eye out instead of havin' a dinner party." He glared at Dorean for a few more seconds before turning around. "Make sure ya change watch in an hour."

"Hey."

The mercenary stopped and growled as he turned to face Khalid. "What?"

"You dug these tunnels?"

Kagain's eyes narrowed. "So what if I did?"

"This goes to Beregost," Khalid said, his voice growing thinner with every word. "You're putting the people of the town at risk."

Silence followed. Dorean's eyes darted between Khalid and Kagain as he stood up and placed himself between them.

Kagain slowly stomped towards Khalid, shoving Dorean aside. He stopped in front of the sitting half-elf and leaned forward until their faces were inches apart.

"Listen ta me carefully," he said calmly. "Are ya listening?"

Khalid grimly returned his stare. Kagain leaned closer, so much that their noses nearly touched and his thick beard scratched Khalid's chin.

"I," he said, his voice dropping to a loud whisper. "Don't give. A flying. Sodding. _Shit_. About the people. Ya get that?"

Khalid did not move a muscle. He stared blankly into the dwarf's blue eyes.

Kagain's beard lifted in a smile. He lifted a hand and patted Khalid twice on the cheek. The dwarf then slowly leaned back, turned and strode past Dorean back up the tunnel.

A long silence followed when the _clunk_ s of his boots faded away. It was abruptly broken by Montaron loudly biting into the salted beef Dorean had given him.

Giving a loud sigh that puffed out and deflated his thin chest, Dorean turned to face Khalid and shrugged his shoulders. "He's a mercenary."

Khalid lowered his head, and Dorean resisted the urge to take a step back when the former's stony glare momentarily turned to him. "That's no excuse."

Dorean blinked, and his brow furrowed as he tilted his head. "Were you a mercenary?"

Khalid's glare evaporated, and he looked away. "Yes."

Dorean blinked again. After a moment, he quietly went over and sat down next to Khalid. He took another draught from his water-skin, then leaned back against the tunnel wall. The silence between them stretched on for minutes, during which Khalid glanced at Montaron several times and avoided looking at Dorean.

"It was for a…a f-friend," he said at last.

Dorean looked up at him. Khalid hesitated, then slowly turned his head to look back. His face was pensive. "Before I m-met Gorion," he added.

They both looked at the Belt of Antipode.

"Earlier, before we were…" Dorean hesitated. "You said that you would help me get revenge. If that is what I want." Khalid lifted his eyes from the belt to look at him. Dorean kept his gaze down. "Would Jaheira want that as well?"

"More than me," Khalid replied, his words, soft yet firm and resolute.

Dorean paused, then nodded without smiling. After a moment, he slowly reached out and placed his right hand on Khalid's left.

"There's something I need to ask of you, Khalid. And I know you may not like it."

Khalid blinked and then drew himself up as he awaited Dorean's request.

"Xzar and Montaron," the dwarf said softly.

Khalid's eye-lids lowered, though he said nothing.

"I know your factions are enemies," Dorean continued. "I know they are…not the best people, and not to be trusted," He paused. "But they have risked themselves to protect us. Over and over. Back there, with that woman, when she stabbed you…" Dorean trailed off, releasing Khalid's hand and looking away. He closed his eyes, breathed deep, then opened them and gazed up at Khalid again. "I'm not asking you to trust them, or to let your guard down around them. All I'm asking is that they be given a chance. Even a half-chance, if possible."

Khalid blinked slowly, his face impassive. After a moment, he slowly looked away from Dorean to the silent, unmoving halfling sitting alone down the passage. Ten seconds passed. Khalid lowered his gaze to the floor and then back to Montaron again. He then stood up and, without picking up his sword and shield, slowly walked towards him. Dorean followed, keeping close behind.

Montaron gave no sign of noticing their approach; he chewed slowly on his beef ration, not stopping even when Khalid moved up beside him.

"You heard him," the Harper said, his words a statement rather than a question.

Montaron said nothing. His gaze remained fixed forward.

"He's right," Khalid added. "For the sake of e-everybody, we s-should try to make peace." He paused. "I can t-talk to my wife. Convince her to d-do the same."

Dorean and Khalid stood and waited. Montaron took another bite of beef, chewed slowly, and then swallowed it. He lowered the half-eaten ration and was completely still for a few seconds.

"Next time ye start a fight an' put us all in danger," he said slowly, his voice flat. "She'll die first."

Dorean immediately grabbed hold of Khalid's arm with both hands and used all his body weight to pull the man away.

Khalid's face had gone blank, exactly like when he saw Gorion's belt in High Hedge, and he stared at the back of Montaron's head as the dwarf dragged and pulled him back up the tunnel, leaving their weapons and packs behind.

The halfling slowly took a swig from the moonshine bottle and then placed it back on the ground, ignoring them both.

..

* * *

Stepping carefully over the pressure-plate, Kivan moved further into his cabin, sword lowered and at his side.

Two people, from the tracks. Smallfolk; gnome or halfling. One remained outside while the other entered.

His eyes swept over the cabin. Nothing had been set off, disturbed or even touched.

He stood very still for a moment, listening for the slightest sound. There was none save for the rustling of leaves and the chirps of birds and insects.

He then went to the bed, side-stepping several more pressure plates, and got down on his knees. The pack was still underneath it. He disabled the trap that would have sent wooden darts flying if the pack had been moved, then dragged it out from under the bed and put it on his shoulders.

Kivan then went to the weapons rack, moving around the hidden cover of the spiked pit-trap in the center of the cabin. He disarmed the three loaded crossbows hidden in the ceiling rafters before turning back to the rack and selecting one of four halberds. The crossbows _clicked_ on empty chambers as he drew the weapon from the rack and slung it onto his back.

Discarding his sword, the wild elf then went to a corner of the cabin nearby one of the boarded-up windows, again avoiding more pressure-plates, and began removing a floor-board. He calmly leaped back as he pried it loose and two javelins, one from the opposite wall and the other from the ceiling, flew through the spot where he had been kneeling a half-second ago.

He had the long-bow in his hand and was reaching for an arrow quiver when a shrill, ear-splitting voice bellowed, "What is _this?!_ "

Kivan spun around, loading and aiming the bow in an instant.

" _This_ is the place thou presents for Tiax to rest thy feet?! 'Tis but a hovel, not fit even for the lowliest of beggars!"

It took Kivan a second to realize that the gnome was standing on the cover of the pit-trap. He blinked, but kept the bow nocked and steady.

"'Tis unacceptable!" Tiax declared, looking around the cabin in disgust. His pipe, still unlit, remained clenched in a corner of his brown beard between his teeth. "Thou _must_ find a better residence for thy master!"

"Get out now or I will kill you."

"Thou dares threaten thy master?! The presumptuous nerve of- "

Kivan fired. The arrow flew beneath Tiax's ear, tore a layer of hair and skin from his cheek, and sank deep into the opposite wall, the force of its flight sending his hat flying off his head.

Tiax did not flinch. He froze, arms still raised in mid-gesticulation. He slowly brought a hand to his cheek, then moved it in front of his face. For a moment, his half-lidded eyes stared quietly at the blood on his fingers before looking up at the face behind the second arrow now aimed at his forehead.

The gnome and the wild elf looked at each other. Tiax then lowered his head, his half-closed eyes still fixed on Kivan's.

"Thou seeks the one known as Tazok."

Kivan's expression did not change, though he blinked at the utterance of the name. His long-bow shook, if only for a second.

"Thou hast been hunting him for decades. Thou hast come close to claiming him many, many times."

Kivan's face dropped.

"Thou hast travelled and hunted and worked and bled and suffered and killed and killed and killed and _killed and_ _ **killed**_ for him. And now thou's quest hast brought thee here, to the land where swords hold back the sea."

Kivan suddenly became aware that he had lowered his bow. He brought it back up. His hands shook and the arrow wavered as he pointed it again at the gnome.

"Who are you and how do you know of me? _Speak!"_

The gnome's head lowered even further, and Kivan _felt_ rather than saw him smile.

"Cyric sees all, servant. He has seen your struggle, and judged you worthy. You shall serve him by serving Tiax, and he will reward you greatly for your fealty."

"I will not serve the Mad God."

"Mad?" Tiax whispered. "Yes...they call Cyric mad, for they fear that which they do not understand. Cyric sees all and knows all, and they fear Cyric for his omniscience. Are there not those who say that Shevarash is mad?"

Kivan became very still. Tiax slowly lifted his head, staring past the arrow into the wild elf's eyes.

"Thou seeks Tazok. Does thou not know that he serves another?"

Slowly turning away, the little gnome began to pace back and forth, stepping over pressure-plates without looking at them and treading on the pit-trap cover without collapsing it. Kivan stared at him, still aiming the bow at the spot where he had been standing.

"Yes, servant," Tiax whispered. "They think Tiax does not know. They hide from him, and they **lie**." He stopped and looked at Kivan. "But Cyric is the master of lies. He sees all."

They looked at each other, and for a moment there was no sound, not even from the world outside.

"Tiax has been granted the glorious task of seeking them. Serve Tiax, servant, and Cyric will reward thee with Tazok…and more."

Kivan stared, frozen to the spot.

Raising his arms, Tiax clapped once, and three ghasts dropped silently through the trapdoor into the cabin, all avoiding the pressure plate directly below. They shuffled over to the weapons rack and removed the halberds, holding them deftly in their claws.

Kivan did not even glance at them. His eyes remained locked on Tiax. One of the ghasts picked up Tiax's hat and placed it on the gnome's head.

"Has thou lost the function of thy tongue?" Tiax asked softly, tilting his head to the side.

For a moment, Kivan did not move.

He then swallowed, the sound audible in the thick silence, and slowly lowered his bow.

..

* * *

Xzar hugged his knees to his chest, not looking up as Dorean and Khalid passed by him. "Wrong," he whispered. "Wrong."

Eldoth looked up from tuning his lute and frowned as he watched the wizard slowly rocking back and forth.

"She is all wrong, this is all wrong, she should not be here, they said nothing of her, why is she here why."

As abruptly as it started, Xzar's muttering stopped. He ceased rocking, staring quietly at his own knees.

Eldoth glanced at him for another moment before looking back down to his lute.

"The little one makes sense, he makes perfect, total, absolute, complete sense, she does not, no she does not, she is everything nothing why is she here _why is she here_."

This time, Eldoth kept his head down, glancing up at Xzar.

The wizard suddenly lowered his knees and leaned forward, clutching at his chest and breathing heavily.

Eldoth raised his head and lifted his back off the wall. He frowned as Xzar's mouth opened in a soundless scream.

"Are you- "

Xzar giggled. He fell onto his side, one hand still clutching his chest, and his body shook as he laughed.

Eldoth raised an eyebrow and then looked to his left.

Ajantis was staring at Xzar with wide eyes. Garrick had lifted his head from his pack and was blinking sleepily. Imoen looked up from her third pork ration, blinking repeatedly, and Khalid and Dorean both looked up from an apparent argument to stare at the mad wizard. Jaheira, however, did not react in the slightest. She remained still, eyes closed and hands resting on the quarterstaff across her lap.

Xzar's laughter echoed throughout the tunnel, drawing looks from the Dented Shield mercenaries. Eldoth's frown deepened upon seeing that none of them showed any sign of going over to silence him. He was just about to consider using a sleeping poison when Imoen stood up and walked over to Xzar.

The mad wizard looked up and froze, staring up at the girl with wide eyes. Without prompt or hesitation, Imoen sat down next to him.

For over a minute, there was no sound in the tunnel save for Imoen chewing her food. Xzar then sat up very slowly, head lowered and gaze directed at the floor, still and quiet.

Eldoth blinked several times, then lowered his head and went back to tuning his lute.

"I must admit," he quipped without looking up. "I find it odd that you seem more comfortable around him than you are of me."

"He's not the one with a moustache."

Eldoth looked up and scowled at her as Garrick, several mercenaries and even Ajantis broke out laughing.

Xzar did not react to anything. He continued to stare at the floor, hands on his lap and blinking slowly.

The medallion continued to throb against his chest, though, for now, it no longer seemed inclined to burn him.


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter 40

When Dorean informed the party that he was going back to retrieve his and Khalid's belongings, Jaheira wordlessly stood up, placed a hand and pushed down on Khalid's shoulder until he sat down, then walked over to the dwarf. Imoen stood up as well.

"I'll be right back," she said to Xzar, who blinked up at her with wide eyes. "Just stay right here."

The wizard froze up immediately, not moving a muscle. Smiling, Imoen fell into place beside Dorean with Jaheira in tow, the half-elf not giving a word or glance to either Xzar or Eldoth. The bard, who was running a thumb and forefinger over his goatee, scowled at Imoen's back as she breezily strode past him.

The trio moved briskly down the tunnel and within a minute reached the spot where Dorean and Khalid had left their belongings.

Lacking her companions' low-light vision, Imoen had to squint to spot Montaron; the halfling was barely visible in the gloom. Kagain apparently either cared little for or disapproved of keeping the tunnels well-lit.

Jaheira did not spare a glance at Montaron, instead moving over to and picking up Khalid's sheathed sword, sword-belt and shield. Imoen picked up Khalid's pack, heaving as she hefted it in her arms, while Dorean collected his own pack and weapons. The dwarf then reached for the pack belonging to the elven woman from High Hedge when Jaheira raised an arm to stop him.

"Have you looked inside it?"

Dorean looked up at her and shook his head. He then noted her calm, neutral yet firm gaze, and handed her the pack without a word. Jaheira took it, and her eyes fell on the last item remaining on the ground; the Belt of Antipode.

"Do you want it?" Dorean asked quietly.

She frowned down at him, having looked at the belt for a total of two seconds before he spoke. The dwarf calmly met her eyes, awaiting her answer.

"You should hold onto it for now," she said at last. The dwarf held her gaze for a few more seconds before nodding and picking up the belt.

Imoen watched them, noting her roommate's solemn expression as he slung the belt around his shoulders like a bandolier.

He looked up at her. She remembered his behaviour earlier in High Hedge, just before they were attacked, and again refrained from giving him a hug or shoulder-pat.

Instead, as Dorean and Jaheira began to walk back up the tunnel, she turned to look at Montaron.

"You sure it's okay to leave him by himself?"

The dwarf and half-elf stopped and looked at her.

"He took a bad hit only hours ago," Imoen added. "He may still have a concussion."

A few seconds passed. Dorean reached up to gently grasp her arm, then stopped when Jaheira stepped forward and removed a small, rectangular-shaped bottle containing a semi-clear and pinkish fluid. Imoen blinked at it. "Will it make him better?"

"It will alleviate the pain and dizziness. He will still need rest afterward to fully recover," Jaheira replied.

In a moment so fleeting that Imoen nearly failed to notice it, Dorean's eyes narrowed, darting from the bottle to Jaheira's back.

If Jaheira noticed Imoen's momentary glance at the dwarf, she did not show it.

"I want to be clear," she said, not lowering her voice. "I do not offer this out of sympathy."

Montaron did not react in the slightest to her words.

A moment passed. Jaheira then blinked as Imoen hugged her, quickly letting go before she could resist or protest, then plucked the bottle from her hands. The half-elf pouted at the girl's back as she went over to Montaron.

Stopping next to his right side, Imoen looked down, frowned and picked up the half-empty bottle of moonshine.

"Dorean gave this to you, didn't he?"

Montaron blinked but said nothing, keeping his gaze fixed straight ahead. Imoen then turned her frown up the tunnel at her roommate who shrugged in response.

"I'm taking this," she declared, stowing the moonshine in Khalid's pack. "And _you_ are taking _this_."

She thrust the medicine-bottle in front of Montaron's nose. Dorean and Jaheira stood in silence, awaiting the halfling's response.

Slowly, Montaron reached up with one hand and grasped the bottle. He held it up and turned it, examining its contents, before finally turning his head to face Imoen.

"You need to rest," she told him. "I'll take over."

A few seconds passed before he replied.

"No need, kid. I'll be fine." Montaron paused, and his usually-blank expression changed; for a brief moment, he was merely an old halfling. "Sorry about shoving ye."

Imoen blinked again, then smiled warmly. She bent down and pat his shoulder, then blinked as she spotted the folded-up parchment, quill pen and ink bottle on the ground to his left.

He saw the direction of her eyes and his face instantly became blank again, a wall slamming down on his emotions. He turned away from her, returning his gaze to the tunnel.

Imoen lingered a moment longer before trudging back to Dorean and Jaheira, both of whom were staring with narrowed eyes at the halfling's back. She glanced over her shoulder at Montaron before following them back up the tunnel.

Montaron did not move until their footsteps had faded away. He then unstopped the medicine bottle, held it to the side at arm's length, and emptied the contents onto the ground.

He then returned to his silent and lone vigil, ignoring the throbbing, biting pain reverberating from the back of his head throughout his skull.

..

* * *

Imoen was quiet as Dorean and Jaheira returned Khalid's weapons and pack before sitting down together to examine the pack belonging to the elven woman. She slowly sat next to Xzar again without looking at him, her gaze cast to the floor. The wizard, who had tensed up at her return, leaned forward very slightly and tilted his head to look at her face.

"Not very friendly, is he?" said Eldoth.

Imoen blinked and looked up at him. The bard was running his fingers along the strings of his lute without touching them. From the corner of her eye, Imoen noticed Khalid and Jaheira glaring at him.

"Montaron, I mean," Eldoth added, ignoring the two Harpers. "He has his good qualities, but enjoyable banter isn't one of them."

"You worked with him, right?" Imoen asked.

"Yes, I did," said Eldoth, looking pleased at the prospect of talking about himself. "A rather unexpected partnership on my part, I admit. And one of my more memorable ones."

"You had other partners?" Dorean asked, earning a disapproving frown from Jaheira which he too ignored.

"Had, have," Eldoth answered with a wave of his hand. "Most of them women." He flashed a smile at Imoen.

"Were they all Zhents as well?" Jaheira asked tersely.

"Oh, not all of them," Eldoth replied smoothly. "Women of the Moonsea tend to be of a much…different temperament from yours, Jaheira. They are generally not very easy to speak to."

"You speak from experience?" said Ajantis. Eldoth smiled and nodded.

"No better teacher."

"Getting back to Montaron," said Imoen. "How well did you know him?"

For a fleeting moment, Eldoth appeared to narrow his eyes at her. He then shrugged his broad shoulders. "As well as the rest of you, I am afraid." He looked briefly at Xzar who was now leaning back against the tunnel wall and had turned his gaze towards the ceiling. "He never was one to speak much of himself." He paused in recollection, and one side of his lips lifted in a smirk. "I…could share one of our past exploits, if you wish."

Imoen looked around at the others for a moment before placing her hands on her knees and nodding earnestly. "Sure, Eldoth. Go ahead. But it better be a good one."

The bard smiled as he carefully set aside his lute. "I will do my best to make it so. If I may inquire, Imoen, have you ever been to Waterdeep?"

Ajantis perked up, looking from Eldoth to Imoen. The latter hesitated for a few seconds before answering.

"Yeah, but…I don't remember much of it. My dad brought me there when I was little. We didn't stay for very long." She paused. "I have read books on it, like Volo's."

Eldoth pursed his lips. "Volothamp's work is extensive, though that particular guidebook of his is rather lacking in information. Volume is no substitute for accuracy, Imoen. One would have to either be a native," he nodded at Ajantis. "Or to have lived in Waterdeep for years to truly appreciate and understand its splendour."

"You're from Waterdeep?" asked Dorean.

"Correct," replied Eldoth, sending the dwarf a pleased smile and gracefully ignoring Khalid and Jaheira, both of whom looked increasingly nettled at Dorean and Imoen conversing with him. "Though I am unfortunately not a native Waterdhavian."

"Where are you from?" Dorean probed further.

"The island kingdom of Ruathym," Eldoth answered with a smile and incline of his head.

"So you and Montaron were in Waterdeep?" said Imoen. Dorean frowned at her.

"Yes, we were, Imoen," said Eldoth, turning back to her with his smile not faltering in the slightest. "This tale I am about to share happened ten years ago."

Silence fell upon the party for a few seconds.

"The Time of Troubles," Ajantis said softly.

"Correct," Eldoth replied, turning to face the young squire. His smile was now gone. "You were in the city as well?"

Ajantis hesitated and then nodded. "Yes. I was."

"Would you like to share it with us?" Eldoth asked, his voice now much softer.

Ajantis' eyes moved from him to Imoen and Xzar, of whom the latter was still looking up at the tunnel ceiling. The young squire then looked at Dorean, Khalid, Jaheira and Garrick who had sat up with his shoulders lying on top of his pack. After a moment, Ajantis looked back to Eldoth and shook his head.

Eldoth nodded back, and a silent understanding seemed to pass between them.

"I've heard and read about what happened in Waterdeep back then," said Imoen. "Crown Prince Myrkul Bey al-Kursi was killed in the skies above the city."

There was a collective pause.

"Come again?" said Eldoth.

"That's his full name, isn't it?" Imoen asked innocently. "Well, it's supposed to be," she added to Xzar who had lowered his head and was now staring at her.

" _Crown_ _Prince?_ " said Jaheira, sounding scandalized.

"She likes princes," Dorean answered for Imoen. "Doesn't discriminate."

"Where was I?" said Eldoth, a smidgen of annoyance in his voice.

"You and Montaron in Waterdeep when the prince was killed," Imoen replied.  
"When the _god of the dead_ was slain," Eldoth said. Imoen stuck her tongue out at him. "His servants, unfortunately, did not perish with him. Contrary to what a book may tell you, they were not mainly composed of undead, but of devils. Such beings do not collapse upon the death of their master. And there were many of them, hundreds, even thousands, perhaps. Far too many for the city guard to face alone."

Eldoth paused to survey his audience. Everyone including the Dented Shield mercenaries within ear-shot were listening intently, with one exception; Xzar was still staring at Imoen.

"And you were in the thick of it," said Khalid. The bard, resisting the urge to frown at Xzar, nodded in response.

"And Montaron," said Imoen.

"He was in a team at the time," said Eldoth. "Being a long-time resident of the city, I was hired to be their guide. Sadly, I am unable to provide many details here, as I am not a true Zhent operative and thus not privy to the details of their mission." He smiled at Khalid and Jaheira, neither of whom smiled back. "What I can tell you," he added, turning back to Imoen and trying not to glance at Xzar who was _still_ staring at her. "Is that whatever mission or objective they had in Waterdeep was likely abandoned in the wake of the chaos left by Myrkul and his servants. The team leader chose to leave the city, and upon realizing that he would have had me killed on the spot if I refuse, I pointed him in the direction of the quickest route I knew of that would lead them out of Waterdeep." He paused. "Montaron, however, elected to stay and fight. He **refused** to be swayed, even under threat, and after a very brief debate, his companions chose to respect his wish. They left him alone with me and headed in the directions I gave them."

Eldoth paused to once again survey his audience.

"What happened then?" asked one of the Dented Shield mercenaries who, Eldoth noticed, had moved closer and was now standing next to the supine Garrick.

"At his behest, I led him through the streets until he found an area he deemed, in his words, 'halfway decent'. We made our stand there." Eldoth closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again. "Montaron ordered me to remain in the rear while he drew the attention of anyone unfriendly that came our way. When I said that he would surely be killed if I did not fight beside him, he put a knife to my ribs and warned me that he will kill me if I disobeyed him, even during battle," Eldoth smirked. "He always preferred to work alone." He mimicked Xzar in leaning his head back against the tunnel wall, and closed his eyes.  
"How bad was it?" asked Ajantis.

Eldoth opened his eyes. "The first hour was, but not nearly as much as the rest. They were disorganized at first, but then they came in waves from multiple directions; streets, doorways, windows and rooftops. I stayed back as Montaron instructed and supported him with my bow and magic. He used a sword, an axe, and more knives than I can recount." Eldoth paused. "By the time the fourth wave fell, the ground all around us was piled with the bodies of the devils. And there was more of Montaron's blood staining it than there was of theirs."

He fell silent again and closed his eyes, and for a moment the tunnel was quiet save for the breathing of his companions. When he opened his eyes again, he saw that Xzar was now looking straight at him, his face blank and unsmiling.

"Did the City Guard not come to your aid?" asked Dorean.

"We were in the Dock Ward; the poorest one in the city. The guardsmen had other priorities."

Ajantis looked away, avoiding everyone's gaze.

"What happened then?" asked Dorean.

"A group of watchmen came to help us. They were hiding in a nearby house. When they saw the fourth wave of devils break and run, they became inspired by our efforts, Montaron's especially. We made barricades out of the corpses of the fiends. And even then, more of them kept coming." Eldoth paused. "Montaron refused all healing that was offered to him." He smiled. "If anything, it only drove the watchmen to fight harder."

Eldoth looked around again. Everyone was listening intently now, though Xzar's eyes were half-lidded and his lips pursed.

"Please, Eldoth. Continue," said Dorean. The bard nodded to him and leaned his head back against the wall again.

"The worst of it happened a few hours before dawn. There was a lull, and we had piled the corpses so high that the grisly barricades were up to our necks. I will _never_ forget that smell. The first group of watchmen had turned the place into a rallying point; more of their own arrived, along with a few guardsmen. Commoners bearing weapons came as well; they too were inspired by our efforts. I still remember the words from one of them; 'This is our home.'" Eldoth paused, his face now grim. "We were attacked by a cambion; a handsome one, but cruel and sadistic. It tore apart our barricade and then waded into us. By that point, my hands and fingers were so blistered from using my bow and lute that I could scarcely even move them." Eldoth paused again. "Our resolve was broken, and we were about to turn and flee. But then Montaron fought and killed the cambion. He saved us all."

Silence lingered for a moment.

"How did he do it?" asked Khalid. Eldoth slowly turned his head and looked him full in the eyes.

"He drowned it. In a puddle of his own blood."

No one spoke. Eldoth slowly looked away from Khalid and leaned his head against the tunnel wall once more.

"He passed out immediately after, atop the devil's shoulders and covered head-to-toe in blood, most of it his own." He paused. "Tell me, Ajantis, do you know of Nindil Jalbuck?"

The squire blinked slowly and furrowed his brow. "Yes. A halfling who owns a grocer."

Eldoth nodded. "Correct, though he wasn't a grocer at the time. He was among the commoners who took refuge in the area Montaron had chosen to defend." He paused. "When Montaron collapsed, Nindil offered to have him brought to his home for treatment. Two of the surviving watchmen volunteered to carry him. They were all wounded themselves, yet insisted on saving him first." Eldoth paused again. "I followed them to Nindil's house, where I spent the next hour watching the man pour what had to have been two dozen vials' worth of potent healing potions and poison antidotes into Montaron. The two watchmen refused any treatment for themselves in case the potions ran out before Montaron could be saved; the man had lost so much blood he had gone pale. By the time Nindil declared that he had been stabilized, the smell of herbs in the house was so strong it was intoxicating."

Eldoth breathed deeply and leaned forward off the wall, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Over thirty people, watchmen, guardsmen and commoners, gathered around us in that street that night. Half of them died there as well." Eldoth breathed deep again. "Nindil told us that he was a thief and smuggler with ties to the black market, hence the crates of potions in his house. I learnt three weeks later that he had set up a grocer several days after that night, giving away provisions free of charge to those who were left destitute by the carnage. When I spoke to him then, he told me that he was leaving his past life behind, and that Montaron and I were responsible for his change of heart." Eldoth smiled. "We became friends, and have remained so to this day."

"How did Montaron react to that?" asked Dorean. "That Nindil was moved by your actions?"

"I don't know; he left the city on the afternoon after the battle. When he awoke, Nindil offered to let him stay in his home for as long as he wished. Montaron didn't say a word to him or the watchmen. He just got up and left. I followed him as far as the city gates." Eldoth leaned back again, meeting Imoen's eyes. "Khelben Arunsun is a hero in Waterdeep. He is credited for having aided the city guard in stopping the rampaging of Myrkul's devils in the city." Eldoth smiled. "There are no songs or books of what Montaron did that night. When I offered to write one for him, he threatened to kill me." His smile widened, stretching from ear to ear. "Like I said, it was quite an interesting partnership. And here I am, travelling with him again in the Sword Coast with you gentlemen and gentlewomen. Perhaps this time, he may allow me to write something about our adventure."

With a deep breath, Eldoth Kron rolled his shoulders and looked around at the party. Khalid and Jaheira were still not smiling, though their dual glares had dulled considerably.

"A fine tale," said Dorean, his voice and expression quiet. "Thank you for sharing it, Eldoth."

Eldoth bowed his head to the dwarf.

"He defied an order to abandon the city and stayed to defend it?" said Imoen, her gaze downcast.

"Not quite what you may expect from him, but yes," said Eldoth. "I at least had a reason to stay and fight; it was my home, after all. He did not."

"Hm," Imoen mused, her brow furrowed as she stroked her chin further. "Xzar?"

Xzar jumped and looked at her.

"Do _you_ have a story about Montaron?"

Dorean's brow furrowed and he tilted his head. Khalid and Jaheira exchanged looks. Eldoth frowned at Imoen.

Xzar slowly straightened his posture from where he had shrank away from her. He blinked rapidly at Imoen's politely curious face and then looked away, his head bowed and chin tucked to his chest.

A moment passed in silence. Imoen deflated slightly, but smiled nonetheless.

"It's okay if you don't-"

"Thirteen sixty-five," Xzar said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Three years ago."

Eldoth stole a quick glance around and frowned in annoyance at Ajantis and Dorean leaning forward to listen to the deranged wizard while Garrick sat up cross-legged and leaned forward as well.

"Ieithymbul," said Xzar, his eyes glazing over. "A mining village in the Sword Mountains. Gnomes live there. Many gnomes."

"Ieithymbul…" said Imoen. "Oh! I've read about that one!" she exclaimed, her jade-green eyes lighting up. "Did you and Montaron see the Unseen Protector?"

Xzar blinked three times, still staring off at nothing. "The Unseen Protector."

"Yeah," Imoen replied, and Eldoth's frown deepened at her growing excitement. "No one from outside the village knows exactly what it is. Some say it's a guardian spirit, or a gnome archmage."

"A gold dragon," said Xzar. "They called him Palarandusk."

Imoen looked up at him, eyes wide and an awed smile blossoming on her face. Eldoth looked around again, resisting the urge to huff when he saw that even the half-elves and nearby mercenaries were listening with rapt attention.

"A dragon?" Imoen whispered, practically trembling with trepidation. "You saw a dragon?" Xzar said nothing, which only fuelled her excitement. "Did you talk to him?"

Xzar slowly leaned back against the tunnel wall. "Yes." He paused. "We ate each other first."

A long silence fell on the party.

"Oh," said Imoen. "How did that happen?"

Xzar blinked twice and looked at Imoen, his expression blank, then looked away.

"We were sent by…" his voice faltered, and his breathing grew heavier. "By…we were sent to…to find and…and…someone." He moved his right hand to his stomach. Dorean slowly stood up, his eyes fixed on Xzar as the latter began to rub his own belly.

"I didn't want to do it," the wizard continued. "I didn't want to…I…I didn't. I like gnomes." His fingers clenched, the nails digging into his robes as his left hand went to his cheek.

Dorean, as though he was trying not to rouse a sleeping person, slowly crept towards Imoen who was frozen in place and staring with wide-eyed, transfixed fascination at the agitated wizard. Khalid and Jaheira slowly rose to their feet as well. Ajantis, Garrick and the mercenaries did not move, seemingly also transfixed like Imoen. Eldoth, who was closest to her and Xzar, remained perfectly still aside from raising his eyebrow.

" **Montaron** ," Xzar snarled, the fingers of his left hand clawing his cheek. His right eye twitched, and his robes tore as he clenched his right hand. "He didn't care. He _didn't care_. And not just one. The whole building. Because of _him_ , I…I had, **had** to…"

He retched, leaned forward and vomited. Eldoth quickly pulled his feet back, his lips curling in disgust as the vomit struck the dirt and splashed his boots.

Dorean did not flinch at the sight. Instead, he slowly stepped forward until he was next to Xzar. The dwarf paused, his eyes meeting Imoen's as they watched the tall, thin wizard's head rock back and forth. The dwarf then reached out and placed a hand on Xzar's back. The wizard froze, then slowly, like a marionette's, his head pivoted to face him. Dorean calmly looked at the tear-streaked face, and gave Xzar's back a pat. He then placed his other hand on Xzar's shoulder, gently guiding him to lean back against the wall.

"What happened then?" he asked softly. Imoen frowned at Dorean, despite her own curiosity. He ignored her, maintaining eye contact with Xzar who, now that he was sitting down, was at eye-level with the dwarf. The wizard paused, staring at Dorean, and in that moment, he looked utterly miserable.

"I became noisy. The gnomes from outside heard. They were very angry. Palarandusk ate me. I ate him. He stopped eating me to stop me eating him. Montaron took a hostage. We left the village with eighteen souls less than when we left." Xzar paused, then slowly turned his head to face Eldoth. "Should we write a song about it?"

Eldoth's eyebrow remained raised. His expression did not alter one iota. He casually turned away, looking around at the rest of the party. His lips pursed at the sight of everyone staring at the crazed wizard, not noticing his own gaze. Ajantis had gone pale, the knuckles of his hands white as they gripped his knees.

Dorean patted Xzar's back again, and the latter lowered his head, his eyes cast to the vomit-stained ground.

"Is this why Montaron dislikes you?" the dwarf asked softly. Xzar paused, then lifted his head to meet Dorean's eyes.

"No," he replied. "He hates me because on the very first day we met, I deduced that he is m- "

A long, thin blade of steel appeared between them, the tip resting against Xzar's mouth.

Montaron stood in front of Imoen, his right arm outstretched and gripping the dagger. Everyone froze, their eyes finally tearing from Xzar to the halfling.

Xzar slowly turned, his movement causing the dagger to cut his cheek. Bright-green eyes locked onto coal-black, both faces blank and emotionless. Blood flowed from the sides of the blade, staining the front of Xzar's robes.

A hand reached out and grabbed Montaron's wrist, which did not budge an inch. Montaron's eyes slowly swivelled from Xzar to the hand, then travelled up the arm attached to it and stopped at Imoen's face. She glared coldly at him, still futilely attempting to push his wrist away from Xzar's face.

Montaron's eyes narrowed in a silent, deadly warning. Imoen's own glare did not waver, nor her efforts to move his hand.

Less than two paces away, Dorean's left hand slowly drifted towards his belt knife.

"Is it just me, Montaron," Eldoth drawled lazily. "Or have you caught yourself an elf?"

There was a long pause, during which everyone's eyes (save Montaron's) darted to the vambrace-wearing foot gripped in Montaron's left hand, then to the body attached to it.

"Drow," said Ajantis.

Everyone leapt to their feet, grabbing their weapons.

"Someone go get the captain!" one of the mercenaries shouted. The latter nodded and hurried to the front of the column, though not without a glance back at the halfling who still had his knife to Xzar's face.

"Montaron," said Dorean. The halfling did not move. "Montaron," Dorean repeated, louder this time. Still he received no response. Imoen too refused to budge, maintaining her grip on the assassin's wrist and refocusing her glare on his face.

Stretching his shoulders, Eldoth stood and picked up his lute. "As interesting as this is, I believe we have more pressing matters at hand," he said calmly. "Perhaps we could continue this discussion later."

Three seconds passed.

Montaron withdrew the dagger. He dropped the drow's foot and roughly brushed Imoen's hand from his wrist. Turning away, he stalked past Dorean, the rest of the party and Kagain's mercenaries, all of whom either stared or glanced at him as he passed.

As Kagain appeared, stomping towards them and shouldering Montaron aside, Dorean silently nodded to Eldoth. The bard smiled and nodded back, ignoring Khalid and Jaheira's narrowed eyes.

Standing up, Imoen looked down at Xzar; the wizard had still not moved a muscle since Montaron had pressed the dagger to his face. His face remained blank and devoid of emotion, eyes fixed on the spot where Montaron had been standing.

She paused for a few seconds, then removed a cloth from her pack and gently placed it to his cheek. The wizard blinked and looked up at her. Without hesitating, she took his left hand in her own and moved it to the cloth. "Hold it there. It's not too deep, so it should stop soon." She let go of the cloth, smiling as he obeyed by keeping it against his cheek, then offered him her hand. He stared at it for a few seconds before placing his free hand on it and allowing himself to be pulled to his feet.

Dorean quietly stood aside as Imoen coaxed Xzar forward past him.

"I've never met a drow before," said Garrick, tying his bolt-quiver to his hip. "This is going to be so exciting."

Xzar, who was walking past him, turned a frowned, suspicious glare on the bard.

"There is something _very_ wrong with you," he admonished.

Garrick blinked in puzzlement as Imoen laughed and gently pushed Xzar further along the tunnel and away from the dead drow.

Watching the girl steer Xzar to the rear of the party, Dorean then realized that Jaheira, rather than at them, was looking intently at him. He carefully averted his gaze, pretending to inspect the two wands tucked into his shirt.

..

* * *

If Kagain took notice of any of the interaction between Xzar and Imoen while he was giving orders to his men, he made no mention of it.

"…and watch for 'porters," he said to Lene. The half-orc nodded and strode up the tunnel towards the front of the column, her scimitar clattering against her armoured back. Kagain turned and looked up as Khalid approached him.

"A single drow scout means a group of at least ten, maybe fifteen," the Calishite said. "There's not much room here. They will try to herd us toward them. We need to find a side-passage."

The party watched as Kagain's eyes narrowed at Khalid and then Jaheira. "No. We don't," he replied, stomping past. "Just stay where ya are an' keep ya mouths shut."

"Kagain," Ajantis said tersely. "With all due- "

"That goes soddin' bloody double for you, _paladin_ ," Kagain growled. He shoved the squire aside as he marched up to the end of the column. The party watched as he stopped a few paces from the dead drow and crossed his arms, leaving his axe, flail, crossbow and shield at his hips and back.

"This is insane," Ajantis breathed. "We're about to be attacked by _drow_ , and he – "

Dorean reached up and placed a hand on his forearm. "He's brought us this far, Ajantis. Let's do as he says." He paused. "But be ready nevertheless."

The squire looked at him with gritted teeth, eyes darting from Dorean to Kagain's back. He then began to pace back and forth along the tunnel as the rest of the party took up positions, Khalid and Jaheira at the front about three paces behind Kagain with their tower shields raised while Dorean, Imoen, Garrick, Eldoth and Xzar took up the rear. Montaron had not returned.

"Ajantis," Jaheira said tersely. Ajantis looked to her, hesitated, and breathed deeply before marching forward next to Khalid. The Calishite gave him a firm nod which he returned, and both men faced forward and raised their shields.

Jaheira turned her head, glancing over her shoulder at the rest of the party. "Keep them ready, but _don't_ aim. I don't want anyone getting shot in the back."

"Understood," Dorean replied. For some reason, she glared at him for a second before returning her gaze forward.

Breathing heavily, Dorean looked around at his comrades, noting Garrick's excitement, Xzar who was staring with seemingly detached curiosity at the dead drow lying at Kagain's feet, Eldoth who was holding his lute rather than a weapon, and finally Imoen whose fingers shook slightly as she readied her bow. The dwarf placed a hand on her forearm, and she turned and gave him a nod and determined smile before facing forward.

Glancing back at the Dented Shields, most of whom were facing the other way with only a handful watching the same direction as the party, Dorean turned his gaze back to the tunnel beyond where Montaron had earlier been on watch.

Silence fell, thick with the trepidation of the party and mercenaries, the only sound being their breathing and the occasional _clink_ of metal.

Ajantis breathed slow and hard, though his stance remained steady and he maintained his hold on his sword and shield; beads of sweat rolled down the back of his neck and into the collar of his breastplate. Kagain by contrast appeared to be the only person present who was completely relaxed; his arms remained crossed over his large chest, his winged helmet gleaming in the dim light.

Minutes went by.

The silence was broken by loud, deliberate foot-falls echoing down the tunnel.

Ajantis drew in a breath. Eldoth strummed a single, audible note on his lute, earning a sideways look from Garrick. Khalid and Jaheira both leaned sideways so that for a brief moment, their shoulders touched.

A lone woman of similar height to Imoen emerged from the darkness, long white hair tucked into the collar of her armour which, unlike the beautifully-designed blue-black plate-metal worn by her dead comrade, was a plain splint-mail shirt of similar design to Khalid's. A black-bladed hatchet was belted to her waist, and a large, two-handed mace nearly equal in length to her height was slung diagonally onto her back. Blood-red eyes gazed out from a round, plum face, surveying the scene before her without even once looking at the dead drow.

"Izzune," said Kagain, his voice calm and pleasant. "Ya a long way from Sshamath."

The drow woman bowed her head. "Captain Kagain," she said, polite and formal.

"Could ya remind me, Izzune, what are the terms of the agreement between the Dented Shields an' House Zauvirr?"

The drow named Izzune lifted her head and straightened, staring over Kagain's head and not making eye contact with him. "If you would be so kind as to allow- "

"Maybe it's my fault. Maybe I got the terms wrong, like my memory's playin' tricks on me or somethin'," Kagain interrupted, his voice maintaining its calm and pleasant tone. "Cos what I remember is that House Zauvirr promised not ta send any of its people through **my** territory without my express permission."

Izzune did not speak. She remained still, her eyes fixed on the point above Kagain's head.

"Yet here ya are, a member of House Zauvirr, in my territory, without that permission. Which is it, Izzune; did I get the terms of my agreement with ya house wrong, or are ya knowingly violatin' those terms?"

"The second one, Captain," Izzune answered. "I am knowingly violating the terms of the agreement between your company and my house."

"…I see," said Kagain. "Thank you for clearin' that up, Izzune. Now, ya were askin' me somethin'?"

"I was asking you to allow me to explain my actions."

The corners of Kagain's beard lifted in a smile. "A reasonable request. Go right ahead."

"My team and I are on a mission given to us by the high priestess of Lolth herself, and of which I am afraid I must decline any inquiry into its details. We entered your territory without first obtaining your permission due to urgency; had we delayed, we would have failed our task, and would have naught but dishonour, shame and death awaiting us upon returning to Sshamath." She bowed her head. "You have our most sincere apologies, Captain. We have no wish to strain or sever any ties with you, and we hope that this mishap would be seen as nothing more than a mere hiccup in a long and fruitful relationship between your company and our house." She lifted her head and for the first time looked Kagain in the eyes. "Please accept this as an apology on behalf of House Zauvirr."

As the party tensed at her reaching for her belt, Izzune slowly untied a large black pouch and tossed it across the tunnel.

Kagain smoothly caught it with one hand, untied it, and removed a perfectly round, jet-black stone the size of a chicken egg.

His eyes moved to Izzune who remained still and ramrod-straight, and he turned the stone over in his hands for several seconds before dropping it back into the pouch.

"I accept this apology, and I grant ya team permission to travel through my territory. May you succeed in ya task, and bring glory and honour to ya house."

Izzune bowed again, this time much lower. "House Zauvirr is grateful to you, Captain Kagain. Lolth bless you and bring wealth and prestige to your company."

Kagain nodded to her. Without another word or a glance at her dead comrade, Izzune turned around and strode back the way she came, her white hair fading into the shadows.

Kagain chuckled, bouncing the pouch in his hand. He turned around to face the party. Rather than frown or glower, his beard only lifted further upon seeing Khalid and Jaheira's contemptuous faces.

"I have heard much of the beauty of the drow, but not of their manners," said Garrick. He then winced when Jaheira's glare turned to him.

"They're nice ta me, music-boy, 'cos I got 'em over a soddin' barrel," Kagain said smugly, giving the pouch one last bounce before tying it to his own belt.

He took a step forward and stopped when Ajantis moved to bar his way. The dwarf's eyes narrowed as he noted the naked sword in the young man's right hand, then lifted his gaze to the tall squire's face, which was no longer pale and instead steadily reddening.

"You consort with drow," said Ajantis, speaking the words in a whisper loud enough to reach the ears of everyone present.

Kagain did not miss a beat. He cricked his neck to the side, eliciting a loud _crack_ , and returned Ajantis' furious glare. "Yeah, I do. Ya gonna stand there blockin' my way or do somethin' about it?"

Ajantis' mailed hands made a grinding sound as he tightened his grip on his sword.

"Ajantis," said Dorean, glancing back at the Dented Shield mercenaries behind them and speaking as clearly and steadily as he could. "If you don't stand down now, you're going to get us all killed."

"Don't take me for a butcher, nugget," Kagain retorted, keeping his eyes on Ajantis. "I'll only kill him."

The paladin's face reddened even further. He lifted his sword a few inches higher and stepped forward. Kagain remained unmoving, still smiling up at him.

Dorean, Imoen, Eldoth and Garrick all hurried forward, each placed a hand on a plate mail-clad bicep or forearm, and pushed Ajantis firmly to one side against the wall. Ajantis struggled, though without much vigour, his eyes still locked on the dwarven mercenary.

"Nice ta know ya aren't all complete morons," Kagain said idly. "Not like this one here." He leered at Ajantis, then stomped past without a glance at Khalid or Jaheira. "Ya oughta have a talk with him, get his head straightened out. We move in two hours." He strode past Xzar, though without shoving him aside like he had done to Dorean and Ajantis earlier.

Slowly, the Candlekeep roommates and two bards released Ajantis, allowing him to ease off the wall. The paladin breathed heavily, still clutching his sword and shield and glaring up the tunnel at Kagain's receding back and at the unfriendly leers of his mercenaries.

Jaheira stepped forward, and Ajantis' eyes met hers. She coolly returned his gaze for a moment. "You need to rest," she told him. "Khalid and I will take watch."

The two half-elves moved and sat down ten paces away, within sight of the party. Dorean, Imoen, Eldoth and Garrick all sat down as well.

Ajantis remained standing. He returned his gaze to where Kagain had disappeared up the tunnel.

Montaron had returned, and was staring directly at him.

The young paladin recalled Xzar's story, and his eyes narrowed to slits. Montaron met his gaze, his own eyes half-lidded in detached indifference.

After a moment, Ajantis slowly lowered himself to the ground, the blade of his sword sinking upright into the dirt between his knees. He ignored Dorean and Imoen's offer of food and drink, glaring at the opposite wall and tightly gripping the hilt of his sword.

Montaron watched him for a few more seconds before moving his gaze to Xzar; the wizard had sat down in between Dorean and Imoen, his eyes darting to the provisions that Ajantis refused.

"Quite a character, isn't he?" said Garrick. Montaron looked at him, his expression blank. "Right, not my business, sorry," the bard hastily added, looking away. Eldoth smiled and leaned back against the wall.

"You really haven't changed at all, Montaron."

Montaron slowly turned his head towards him. Eldoth's smile faded as he met the halfling's eyes.

"Don't ever talk about me again," the assassin said softly.

Seconds passed. Eldoth then smiled and raised his hands.

Montaron held his gaze for a few seconds, then turned away and walked back up the tunnel towards the front of the column.

Eldoth lowered his hands, glancing after his former partner, and for a fleeting moment, his eyes narrowed slightly and glinted in the tunnel's dim light.

..

* * *

Ajantis was still awake an hour later, staring at the blade of his sword while his hands gripped the hilt. Occasionally, he would mutter under his breath, as though he were reciting a prayer.

Dorean watched him quietly, unable to hear his words. He then looked around, taking care to move only his eyes.

Garrick had nodded off again, once more with his head on his pack and his weapons propped up against the wall. Eldoth was also asleep, sitting up against the wall with his legs stretched out in front of him.

Xzar and Imoen, both of them to Dorean's immediate right, were also sleeping with their backs against the wall. Imoen's head was lolled sideways, her cheek resting against Xzar's shoulder; she had fallen asleep minutes after he had, the exertions of their journey to High Hedge and through the Upperdark having finally caught up to her.

Dorean's gaze lingered on his roommate, and he considered moving her so that the unstable wizard would not awaken to find her leaning on him.

 _He was frightened of being touched by her before. Yet now he accepted her hand._

Keeping his own head still and moving only his eyes, he dwarf contemplated Xzar's face. There was now a fresh scar across the man's cheek from Montaron's dagger; the blade must have been razor-sharp. The skin around it was caked with dried blood. The cloth Imoen had given Xzar was now carefully folded and tucked into the wizard's belt.

 _Never seen him asleep before._

Out of habit, Dorean's eyes scanned the robed wizard. _No visible weapons or spell-book, but I know he uses throwing knives._ _Just robes. Not a shred of armour anywhere on him. Yet he often behaves more like an assassin than a wizard._

He remembered the very first time he saw Xzar, the man's hand gripping Imoen by her throat. His eyes moved almost of their own accord, noting his neck, heart, thighs and wrists.

 _Right next to me. I could…_

A long moment passed before Dorean finally tore his eyes from the slumbering wizard. He stood up, careful not to make any noise, and walked past Xzar and Imoen towards Khalid and Jaheira.

The half-elves were both sitting side-by-side, cross-legged and sharing a water-skin. They looked up as Dorean approached, and Khalid scooted to the side to allow him to sit between them. Jaheira's eyes lingered briefly on the Belt of Antipode still slung about Dorean's shoulder.

"Can't sleep?" Khalid asked. Dorean nodded. "It happens s-sometimes. T-too much on the mind."

"You wish to share something with us," said Jaheira. Khalid frowned at her.

"I wanted to speak with you," Dorean replied. "About what transpired between Khalid and Montaron earlier."

"He told me. You convinced him to try to make peace with the Zhent."

"…yeah," Dorean said feebly. Jaheira regarded him for a moment.

"I do not begrudge you for your effort. You aim to prevent conflict from within the party."

"I should have known better," Dorean replied with a sigh.

"It isn't y-your fault," said Khalid. "We b-both know who is to blame."

"Are they really that dangerous?"

"They are," Jaheira said shortly. She and Dorean looked at each other for a moment before the latter lowered his head.

"Whatever their allegiances or their natures, they have not done anything to us," he said softly. "Not yet, at least."

"Do you feel indebted to them?" asked Jaheira. "You do not strike me as one who is easily manipulated."

"My feelings don't matter," Dorean replied, restraining himself from adding an edge to his voice. "I _am_ indebted to them. They have already protected me and Imoen several times over. Just...like you have."

"We didn't s-send you up to scout out a hill alone," Khalid said quietly.

"No," Dorean said softly. "You didn't." He paused. "I don't want to be forced to choose." Jaheira stared coldly down at him. Dorean kept his head down, not meeting her eyes. She looked up at Khalid, who had placed his hand on the little dwarf's shoulder, then lowered her gaze back to Dorean.

"The terms of your agreement with them," she said slowly. "You are to accompany them to Nashkel and aid them in their mission."

Dorean hesitated, then nodded. Jaheira and Khalid looked at her again. None of them spoke for a moment.

"So be it," said Jaheira. "After which, you and Imoen will be free of any debt or obligation to them. If they insist otherwise, Khalid and I will step in."

"And if they try anything," said Khalid, and he glanced back to where Xzar and Imoen were sleeping side-by-side. "Before, during or after Nashkel…we will kill them."

"I will not hope that they won't betray us," said Jaheira. "Since you insist on fulfilling your agreement with them, we will have to be on guard. When they strike, and they will, we must be ready." She paused. "We will not make peace with the Zhents."

Dorean paused, then closed his eyes and sighed again. "I understand. I just…we have enough problems already."

"We appreciate your effort, though not your wisdom," said Jaheira, her voice now softening. "For your sake and Imoen's, we will try to keep things...civil, at least. Unless of course, they provoke us first."

"Thank you. I am in your-"

"No," she answered firmly. "Gorion was our friend, and you are his child. There will be no debts between us." She met the dwarf's eyes for a long moment before looking over her shoulder. "If preventing party conflict is what you want, you have more than us and the Zhents to concern yourself with."

Dorean followed her gaze, grimacing at Ajantis.

"You are the reason that he pledged his service," said Jaheira. "He may listen to you more than he would to us."

They looked at each other again. Dorean then nodded and stood up. He patted Khalid on the shoulder, then strode back up the tunnel towards the Helmite.

..

* * *

Ajantis did not look up from his sword as Dorean approached. The dwarf sat down next to him without a word.

A full minute went by in silence. Ajantis glanced at Dorean; the thin little dwarf was sitting cross-legged, his gaze directed at the opposite wall. The young squire blinked and then looked away. Another minute passed.

"I am aware of my actions," Ajantis heard his own voice speak, low and quiet. "You and the others were right to restrain me. Had you not done it, I would have put us all at risk."

He waited for Dorean's reply. When none came, Ajantis finally turned his head to openly look at him. The dwarf had not diverted his gaze from the wall. The squire's lips tightened and he looked back to his sword. _Lord Firecam used to do the same._ He remained silent for a moment, bitterness and guilt brewing in his gut.

"I have encountered drow before," he said after another minute. "They come to the surface on occasion to rape, pillage and enslave. Anything they choose not to take, they destroy or defile." He paused, and for a moment, his shoulders sank. "I am not blind. I know that humans – Amnians and Waterdhavians included – commit the same atrocities. But…"

"You don't need to explain or justify yourself to me, Ajantis," Dorean said softly. "Your beliefs are your own." He paused. "Kagain said that he has the drow over a barrel. As far as I know, there are hardly any drow raids in the Sword Coast." He looked up, meeting Ajantis' eyes. "He backed down when you told him to release Imoen, and I don't think that was because you said you would take action if he refused." Dorean paused, and his voice became small and quiet. "He could have given me up to save himself. The payment promised for protecting me can't be worth incurring the wrath of the Flaming Fist."

Ajantis looked down at Dorean with half-lidded eyes. "Are you asking me to overlook his evil actions in favour of his good ones?"

"No. I'm only sharing what I know of him from what I have seen with my own eyes."

Ajantis' eyes narrowed to slits. A moment passed, and he closed them, breathed deep and looked away. His gaze fell on the spot where Montaron had disappeared up the tunnel.

"What do you think of Eldoth and Xzar's stories?" Dorean asked quietly. Ajantis blinked, and several long seconds passed before he answered.

"I think," he said slowly. "That Montaron and I should be kept far apart."

There was a pause.

"Agreed," said Dorean.

The two of them sat in silence. Ajantis glanced down at Dorean; the dwarf had lowered his head and appeared to be contemplating something. The squire was about to gently inquire as to what troubled him when Dorean spoke.

"I need to come clean with you, Ajantis. You have risked your life, your honour and your reputation by allying with me. It is only fair that I be honest with you."

Ajantis tensed. He then breathed deep, pulled his sword out of the dirt and laid it against the wall next to him. "Very well. What is it?"

"The arrest warrant," the dwarf replied. "The charges against me are not entirely untrue." He lifted his head, meeting the paladin's eyes. "I am guilty of thievery."

Ajantis was silent for a long moment, his face unmoving. "I see," he said at last, his voice soft. "What of the other charges?"

Dorean shook his head. "I don't know what happened to Gunnhallur Silvershield. And I am not a murderer."

Three seconds passed. Ajantis' chest deflated as he released a breath he realized he had been holding. He looked down at Dorean's solemn face, and then patted his shoulder. "I have met thieves in my travels. You seem to be one of the better ones."

Dorean's beard rose in a small smile. Ajantis felt the corners of his own lips lift as well. He removed his hand from the little dwarf's shoulder. "A paladin does not break their word. As long as you remain falsely accused, you have my sword, Dorean."

The dwarf held his gaze for a few seconds before bowing his head. "If I may, Ajantis, would you extend your pledge to Imoen as well?"

Ajantis looked at the pink-clad girl slumbering against Xzar's shoulder and then back to Dorean. "I will."

"Thank you. I promise I will repay your kindness."

They smiled at each other, and Ajantis realized that he now felt better; the brewing anger in his stomach had resided.

A thought suddenly occurred to him, and he glanced back at Imoen. "Dorean?"

"Yes?"

"The vest that Imoen is wearing; is it Shadow Armor?"

"Taerom from the smithy in Beregost said it is."

Ajantis looked at him. "It is his most expensive item. Or was." His brow furrowed. "Did you…?"

Dorean's eyes widened, and he lifted and waved his gloved hands. "No, I bought it." He paused. "I...had to commit several burglaries to afford it."

Ajantis frowned at him. Dorean leaned away.

After a moment, the paladin's face broke out in a smile.

"You…you were jesting!" the dwarf accused, glaring as Ajantis let out a laugh which he quickly stifled when Imoen and Xzar both stirred in their sleep.

Ten paces away, Khalid glanced over his shoulder and smiled. "I think t-they are getting along."

Jaheira glanced at Ajantis and Dorean as well, and said nothing. Without looking, she reached out for Khalid's hand for the twentieth time since he was stabbed in the neck. The couple quietly returned to watching the tunnel, their interlocked hands resting between them.

..

* * *

"So it was they who attacked you," Thalantyr said slowly, lowering his head and wringing his hands around his staff. "You were the one acting in self-defence."

Kivan grunted, picking up another potion bottle from the table. Thalantyr regarded the wild elf for a moment before stealing yet another glance at Tiax. The gnome was standing a short distance away, eyes glued to the hovering crystal.

"You still haven't told me how you ended up with him."

"He saved my life, and he hunts Tazok," Kivan answered.

They both looked at Tiax. The mad gnome had rambled non-stop since setting foot in High Hedge, commenting on everything from the ceilings to the long corridors and numerous shelved books. Upon entering the shop, however, he had fallen silent and proceeded to do little save stare at the crystal and give the occasional quiet chuckle.

"Are you sure about this?" Thalantyr asked. "I have worked with gnomes before. They can be very unpredictable."

Kivan did not answer. He turned back to the table and selected another potion. Thalantyr huffed, but chose not to push the matter.

"I'm going to look for Melicamp."

Thalantyr froze, staring at the wild elf. "I've got my own people looking- "

"I know."

The magus fell silent, watching as Kivan pulled another two potions from the rack, stuffed them into his pack, then turned and held out a coin pouch to him.

A moment passed, and Thalantyr shook his head. "Keep it," he said, his voice and expression flat.

Kivan blinked, then returned the pouch to his belt without a word or gesture. He turned and strode towards Tiax. "We go south," he said, his voice echoing throughout the chamber.

Tiax turned to him, an odd little smile plastered on his face. "To seek the boy, yes?"

Kivan halted, staring at the gnome. His smile widening, Tiax leaned sideways to look around Kivan, grinning at Thalantyr. "Thou hast pleased Cyric, Conjurer."

Slowly, Kivan turned his head, one eye glancing over his shoulder at the magus. Thalantyr had gone ramrod still, his eyes wide and fixed on Tiax.

"Servant!" Tiax suddenly shouted, and Kivan nearly jumped. "Come! Let us away to find the one called Melicamp! Let it **never** be said that Cyric does not reward those who serve him!"

The gnome marched towards the shop's only doorway. He stopped a few paces from it, turned to glance back at the crystal, and gave a final, loud snicker before leaving.

Kivan did not look at Thalantyr. Keeping his gaze fixed straight ahead, he moved towards the exit.

"Kivan."

The wild elf ignored the magus, and did not slow his stride. Thalantyr said nothing further, remaining in place long after he had left.


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter 41

If someone had told Eldoth Kron six days ago that accepting Safana's idea to join the little dwarf's party will result in him fighting battles against bandits and attack dogs, uncivilized run-ins with the Flaming Fist company, an unpleasant encounter with the region's latest elven mass murderer, and finally a journey through the Upperdark in which there would be a negotiation with polite and respectful drow, he would have complimented their imagination.

The thought irked him, and he resisted the urge to scowl lest anyone watching saw that he was not truly asleep.

The ground was cold and dirty, and the faint smell of urine told him that at least one of the mercenary thugs (as crude and uncouth as their leader) had relieved themselves against the wall of the tunnel. The bard's nose wrinkled at the stench.

 _Is three thousand gold truly worth this? I could have made the same amount in the same time with a fraction of the tedium._

His thoughts turned to Safana again, and he silently cursed her. No doubt she had been relaxing in Beregost this past week while he was the one endangering himself.

 _If she should even_ _ **suggest**_ _receiving a larger share of the dwarf's bounty…_

He wondered yet again if her scheme to obtain the bounty on the dwarf was merely a ruse to send him away; what if she had already taken Skie down to Amn?

 _She wouldn't dare. Not with what I have on her._

His fingers found his lute, and he took comfort in the touch of its strings. Here was something he was certain would never betray him.

Forcing Safana out of his mind, he directed his attention towards the pair of voices to his right.

Jaheira and…what was his name? Khalid? That's right.

Eldoth suppressed a smirk as their indistinct voices became as clear and audible to him as if he were right next to them.

 _You do not know I can hear you. Whisper all you want, my friends. Pay no attention to the slumbering bard._

"…alright?" Khalid was asking.

"Better than expected," Jaheira answered. "It has been some time."

A short pause. "We won't b-be here m-much longer," said Khalid.

That ridiculous stammer again. Eldoth wondered how Jaheira could tolerate it. _I suppose there is no accounting for taste._

"Nature's voice is distant here," Jaheira muttered. "I will be glad to leave this place."

 _Ah. She feels vulnerable this deep underground._ Eldoth held back a sneer. _In the end, they are all vulnerable._

"What d-do you think of her?" said Khalid, apparently deciding to change the subject.

 _Must be Imoen; there aren't any other women in the party. A pity._

There was a pause; the couple were probably looking at Imoen right now. Eldoth kept his face relaxed and his breathing steady.

"She reminds me of her father," said Jaheira.

"You don't m-mean that," Khalid admonished.

"Friendly to everyone. Generous with food. Likes the colour pink."

"She is _not_ Winthrop, Jaheira."

 _Winthrop…why does that name seem familiar?_

"…I hope you are right," Jaheira said. A moment passed in silence. "She has taken quite well to the necromancer."

Another pause. "Her and Dorean d-don't know the Zhentarim like we do."

A sneer threatened to reach Eldoth's lips. _We can always trust Harpers and Zhents to hate each other._ He frowned inwardly. _Though she is right about the girl. I suppose Imoen finds him interesting, in a morbid way._ He grinned to himself. _Something I could use, if the need arises._

"Dorean is right," Jaheira muttered. From the volume of her voice, Eldoth deduced that she was still looking at Imoen. "We should not remain at each other's throats."

"Jaheira, Montaron said he will _kill_ you if - "

"I know," Jaheira replied. Eldoth was immediately torn between annoyance and relief at her interrupting Khalid. "But right now, our most pressing problems do not lie with them."

After a moment's silence, Eldoth heard Khalid sigh. "The Flaming Fist."

"We are down here because they pursue us. I have seen people like their captain. Farrahd will not rest until he has finished his mission."

 _Not inaccurate_ , Eldoth relented. _Benjy has a reputation for bull-headed stubbornness._

"Could we g-get word to Eltan?" Khalid asked, lowering his voice further. "He is a f-friend of the Harpers. We c-could convince him to withdraw the bounty."

 _Well, well,_ mused Eldoth. _The rumours about Grand Duke Eltan's connections are true after all._

There was a brief silence from the half-elves.

"J-Jaheira?" Khalid whispered. "What do you think?"

 _Is she watching me?_

Eldoth again made sure that his breathing was slow and steady.

"Dorean said something, in the Friendly Arm Inn," Jaheira said at last, her voice soft and pensive. "I keep thinking about it."

"Jaheira…"

"It's not that. It's…" She breathed deep. "He said that someone may have betrayed Gorion."

Ten seconds passed in silence. Eldoth strained his ears, listening for the slightest sound. Imoen's snores raked his eardrums, and his right eye-lid twitched at the sound.

"You don't think…" said Khalid.

"You are a kind, compassionate soul, Khalid," Jaheira replied. "Sometimes it clouds your vision."

Eldoth fought down a snort.

"But…what about there being no order t-to kill or c-capture us?" Khalid asked. Eldoth again rolled his closed eyes at the man's stuttering.

"…I don't know."

In the silence that followed, Eldoth realized from their snores and snuffles that while Imoen, Xzar, Garrick and Ajantis were all asleep, he could barely hear a sound from Dorean. The dwarf was likely awake and sitting quietly. The bard redoubled his efforts to feign sleep, keeping his ears primed on Khalid and Jaheira's words.

"They could have gone to Baldur's Gate with Firebead," Khalid muttered. "But instead, they c-chose to stay w-with us."

 _Firebead…the old mage who buys books for the Candlekeep library. So he is a Harper as well. A few people in Baldur's Gate may find that_ _ **very**_ _interesting._

"Jaheira?" Khalid whispered.

Eldoth could not see what happened next, but from the sounds, he guessed that Jaheira had chosen to either embrace or kiss Khalid.

He was about to turn off his enhanced hearing to mull over what he had gleaned from their conversation (and because the thought of any woman willingly touching that meek little man irritated him) when a third hushed voice spoke from just behind the two half-elves.

"Pardon me, but are the two of you married?"

 _Garrick?_

Eldoth risked a peek. Sure enough, the young bard was crouched behind Khalid and Jaheira, both of whom were now looking at Garrick with respective looks of puzzlement and annoyance.

"We are," Jaheira answered tersely. Garrick's shoulders quivered as he sat down cross-legged behind her and Khalid.

"Sorry if I interrupted, but I had to be certain." Eldoth _felt_ rather than saw him smile. " _Every_ adventure book I have ever read was about people who found love on the road. I've never travelled with a married adventuring couple before."

Eldoth rolled his shut eyes a third time. _Gods, the men in this party…_

Before Khalid or Jaheira could answer the nosy minstrel, a beard-muffled voice yelled, "Alright, break's over! Everybody up!"

Eldoth flinched as his enhanced hearing amplified the order, the ten syllables ringing in his ears. He contemplated killing Kagain at the first opportunity.

 _Perhaps later._

Pretending to blink blearily and look around, he saw Garrick's good-natured smile and heard his earnest "Another time, then!" to Khalid and Jaheira before standing and moving towards his pack and weapons.

As he stood up and gathered his belongings, Eldoth noted Ajantis and Dorean standing up together. The young Waterdhavian patted the dwarf on the shoulder before meeting the half-elves' eyes and nodding to them.

Eldoth recalled their earlier conversation, which he had also listened to.

 _The fool is prepared to risk his own life to protect the dwarf._ Eldoth's lips curled very slightly in a barely perceptible sneer. _I shouldn't be surprised; the little one fits the image of a fair damsel in need of a knight's shield-arm._

He looked at Imoen, watching as she stretched, stood, and turned to Xzar who had not stirred from Kagain's order nor the bustle of activity around him.

The wizard's eyes opened slowly as she gently shook his shoulder, and he stared at her face for five seconds before accepting her offered hand and allowing her to help him stand.

 _The girl_ _ **really**_ _has questionable taste._

Feeling a person's gaze on him, Eldoth turned to face Khalid's scowl. No doubt the stutterer disapproved of him eyeing Imoen.

Eldoth casually glanced back, deliberately meeting Khalid's eyes, before slowly turning away in a silent declaration to ignore him.

 _They could be a challenge. Wouldn't be the first Harpers I have killed, but it never hurts to be careful. And if I play my cards right, Montaron or the madman would do the deed for me._

The bard slung his longbow onto his back, keeping his face relaxed as he glanced at Dorean reluctantly accepting Imoen's offer to help him put on his pack.

 _The little one wants peace in the party above all else, so much so that he has chosen to trust_ _ **me**_ _._

A tiny smirk found Eldoth's lips as the party resumed their journey.

 _You poor, little fool. No one should ever trust me._

..

* * *

At Kagain's order, conversation was kept to a strict minimum and all music forbidden. Kagain threatened to brain the first minstrel who so much as strummed a single lute-string or exhaled into a flute. Eldoth wondered if the dwarf's control over his drow contacts may not be as strong as he claimed.

From his nervous repeated glances over his shoulder at the receding darkness behind them, Ajantis appeared to suspect the same. The paladin kept to one side of Dorean while Imoen took up the other, with Xzar walking a few paces behind the dwarf. Eldoth smirked at the sight.

 _Dorean has a knack for making people protective of him. Where is that famous dwarven pride everyone talks about?_ Probably where he also left his courage, dignity and right to call himself a man.

Garrick had again chosen to walk beside Eldoth. Not surprising; Eldoth was good at drawing and maintaining the attention of others. He could hardly blame the boy wanting to catch some of it.

Due to Kagain's order, Garrick refrained from speaking. Eldoth did not mind. The young minstrel was amusing at times, but more often than not his excitable and inquisitive nature grated on his nerves.

Khalid and Jaheira took up the rear. Eldoth did not chance even a glance back at them, in case something in his own expression may give away that he had listened in on their earlier discussion. _Learned that the hard way._

Montaron was conspicuous by his absence, and Eldoth guessed that he was likely scouting ahead of the entire column. _The old man really hasn't changed after all this time; he still always wants to be the first to draw blood._

A few hours went by in near-total absence of conversation. Eldoth fell into a habit of counting torches and support structures. Unfortunately, they were spaced at precisely equal intervals, no doubt due to Kagain having the neurotic and tedious nature of dwarves towards anything involving underground projects.

 _One possible way to die in the Upperdark - boredom._

Eventually, the tunnel began to slope upwards, and Eldoth's hopes lifted when the mercenaries called a halt. The half-orc Lene then informed the party that they were now beneath Beregost and that Captain Kagain was scouting the area ahead.

"He's doing the scouting himself?" Dorean asked.

"The way he stomps around everywhere, he'll alert everyone within a mile," Imoen remarked, earning an elbow jab from the dwarf.

"Kagain can be quiet when he wants to be," said Lene. She smiled at Dorean and Imoen's raised eyebrows, revealing fang-like teeth in her bottom jaw, then turned as another mercenary appeared from the front of the column.  
"…what is it?" the half-orc inquired, noticing the man's expression of contemptuous disgust.

"Captain wants everyone up front now."

Lene frowned. "Tell me."

The merc looked her in the eye before replying with one word. "Rodei."

Eldoth's brow furrowed as he watched Lene's expression along with all the other mercenaries within earshot instantly change to match that of their co-worker.

"I know that name," said Garrick, his face also wrinkling in disgust. The party looked at him.

"You do?" Dorean asked, his polite tone clearly mixed with nervousness. Eldoth lowered his eye-lids at the dwarf's obvious fear.

"I don't like to speak ill of others," said Garrick, now grim and serious. "But with Rodei Vai, I'll make an exception." He paused. "He is, quite simply, the most despicable person I have ever met in Baldur's Gate."

..

* * *

The party followed the mercenaries to what appeared to be an open section of brick wall. After the mercs had gone through, Dorean, Imoen and Ajantis moved first, followed by Garrick and Eldoth.

 _Sunlight at last._

"Hey," said Imoen, looking around the bare and empty room. "Isn't this the…"

"Storage room of the Dented Shield headquarters," Dorean finished. "But where is everything?"

"I believe we are about to find out," Jaheira said grimly.

The first thing Eldoth noticed upon entering the spacious main lobby was that, like the storage room behind him, it was completely absent of furniture, items or decorations; even the counter and shelves were gone.

The second thing he noticed was that the mercenaries had taken positions along all four walls, surrounding Kagain, Montaron and a human who was facing both the dwarf and halfling with his back to the party.

The human was wearing heavy plate armour of similar appearance to that of Captain Farrahd, albeit even more shiny, polished and with a slight bluish hue. A white cape emblazoned with the fire-red symbol of the Flaming Fist hung from his shoulders, one side partly lifted by the jewelled sheath of a belted long-sword. Wisps of smoke hung in the air above a head of shoulder-length copper-coloured hair.

Eldoth spared a few seconds to glance around the lobby. There was not a single face among Kagain's mercenaries that was absent of dislike, disgust, anger or hatred.

Without a doubt, this man is Rodei Vai.

Rodei took a long, slow drag from a tobacco pipe, then turned to look at the party gathered behind him, revealing a face with tanned skin, square cheekbones, a firm jawline and deep-set gray eyes. He would have been handsome if not for the self-satisfied smugness that seemed to ooze not only from his expression but from everything else; his hair, armour, clothes and overall posture.

"These're the misfits you've tied yourself to, Kagain?" he drawled. "No wonder you've fallen on hard times. Four humans out of nine and the only one from this country's wearing the flag of the enemy."

A muscle twitched in Ajantis' jaw as he stepped forward. "The Order of the Radiant Heart -"

"Is based in that sewage pond called Athkatla, which is in Amn. Do you somehow not know that Amn is not very friendly with us right now, kid, or did you skip geography in school?"

"Did you skip math in yours?" Imoen retorted. "We've got five humans, not four."

"I wasn't counting you, sister. Keep your mouth shut when the men are talking."

Khalid reached for his sword and Jaheira took hold of his forearm. Rodei smirked and took another long drag from his pipe. Neither Kagain nor Montaron moved.

"Rodei," Eldoth said loudly, stepping forward. "It has been some time."

The man's gray eyes narrowed as they locked onto the approaching bard. "Eldoth," he replied. "Why am I not surprised?"

Eldoth stopped in front of Rodei, matching the latter's smirk with his own. "I could say the same about you. Tell me, how is Beatrice? She is well, I hope?"

Rodei blew a whiff of smoke into Eldoth's face. The bard neither blinked nor altered his smirk. "Very well, _especially_ after you ran off with her money. I think she finds it a fair payment for being rid of you."

"Perhaps," Eldoth replied. "You are welcome, by the way."

Rodei's eyes narrowed to slits. "For what?"

"She is single now, is she not? You are free to pursue her again. I understand people may speak ill of such an endeavour, seeing as she is your daughter, but idle gossip would hardly stop a man like you, would it?"

Rodei's eyes flashed as he smiled a dangerous smile. Eldoth smiled back, then turned around and strolled back to the party, noting with pride that even Jaheira's seemingly default contemptuous look for him appeared to have lessened. _Rodei, my friend, you will always be a boon to me._

"You might want to think about who you're siding with, Eldoth," Rodei called. "You know who I have on mine?"

"Someone who wants you gone for at least a few days, no doubt," Eldoth smoothly drawled back. He grinned at the sounds of guffawing from the Dented Shield mercenaries.

"Commander Eltan. You may have heard of him," Rodei declared, smugness quickly returning to his every pore. "He's been talking of putting together warrants and bounties on every single person who is aiding the thieving little groundling you've got with you." He looked around, his lips curled and teeth bared in a vicious smirk as his eyes swept over the Dented Shield mercenaries. "Individual bounties," he said slowly, accentuating every syllable.

A cold and clammy feeling rose in Eldoth's gut. As always, he kept his face straight.

 _Safana's scheme is becoming more bothersome by the minute._

Rodei puffed out his chest, luxuriating in the silence that had fallen in the wake of his words, and flicked ash from his pipe onto the floor.

Eldoth glanced at Kagain and Montaron; both of them had yet to move a muscle, and their expressions were completely devoid of emotion.

"It's probably because of Entar Silvershield," Rodei prattled on. "There's someone else you people may have heard of; another one of my many friends. Old Entar is a little upset about his son Gunnhallur's disappearance; he wants every Flaming Fist, soldier and bounty hunter looking for the groundling responsible. He even doubled the bounty. That would make it six thousand, I think."

From the corner of his eye, Eldoth saw Imoen and Ajantis draw closer to Dorean. Xzar had his head tilted and appeared to be studying Rodei's throat.

Rodei turned to Kagain. "Nice job guarding his other son, by the way. Died in a bandit raid along with a dozen of your men? I don't think you're cut out to lead a company, my friend. You should go back to digging, or whatever it is your kind are supposedly good at."

A half-dozen mercenaries including a snarling Maija began to move toward him, their hands reaching for their weapons. They stopped when Kagain raised an arm, still silent and stone-faced.

 _How many fights has this man provoked?_ Eldoth mused. _I should speak up lest it happen here._ "Rodei," he said, his voice bored and weary. "Could you please stop posturing and tell us why you are here? As wonderful as your company has been, I am certain you have many other important matters to attend to. We would all hate to keep you from them."

Rodei's smug smile widened, and he took his time to take another drag from his tobacco pipe before speaking. "The Grand Dukes themselves have sent me to aid Benjy in capturing a certain little groundling and his group of friends. Who happen to include Zhent agents." He paused, smirking over his shoulder at Montaron. "I hear there's an order to kill those two on sight. Don't understand it myself. The Zhentarim are a rather pathetic lot to me. After all, they live in Moonsea."

Rodei's smirk turned into a sneer as he met Montaron's eyes. Eldoth's former partner remained completely still, face blank and eyes cold.

 _What does his current partner think of this?_ Eldoth glanced at Xzar and frowned. The mad wizard was now picking hairs from Ajantis' armour, the squire apparently not noticing due to his attention being focused on Rodei, and did not appear to be paying attention to the obnoxious officer's words.

"Do you intend to accomplish this alone and surrounded by all of us?" said Jaheira. Rodei turned his sneer onto her.

"There's another problem you ought to work on, Kagain; make the ladies with you learn to know their place and keep their mouths shut."

Ajantis lunged forward and Garrick, Dorean and Xzar all grabbed hold of him, the wizard frowning in annoyance as he attempted to collect more of the paladin's hair. The hostility only seemed to bolster Rodei's smugness. "Youth. Always need to prove how big and brave they are."

Eldoth raised an eyebrow as he ran his eyes over the man's obviously modified and needlessly shiny armour as well as his jewelled scabbard, tailored cape and carefully combed hair.

"Ya got a message for me," Kagain said, finally breaking his silence. Ajantis stopped struggling.

"I do," Rodei replied, turning slowly to the dwarf. "If you want to hear it."

Eldoth winced and then sighed. He watched as Kagain, without taking his eyes off Rodei, slowly remove a coin pouch from his belt and toss it to the latter. Rodei caught it in one hand and then took his time opening and counting the money. Eldoth glanced to his right and left, noting that Khalid and Ajantis were both still being held back by the other party members.

After nearly a minute, Rodei closed the pouch, tied it to his own belt and finally looked back to Kagain. "You expecting something?"

Kagain's bearded and emotionless face stared up at Rodei's clean-shaven, smug-filled one. After ten seconds, the Flaming Fist captain sneered and turned away from him.

"Eltan and Entar are not happy with you, Kagain," he drawled, pacing a short distance back and forth, his left hand resting on his sword pommel, and swaggering with every step. "Not happy at all. Entar's second son dead under your protection, and now you're harbouring the one who killed his first son." He took another drag of his pipe and lifted his chin, blowing smoke towards the ceiling. "I was able to calm them down, tell them you couldn't expect much from a groundling." Rodei shrugged, his mailed feet clanking against the wooden floor. "I got through to them; if not for me, you and these thugs you call a merc company would all be swinging from ropes around your necks by now. You ought to be grateful."

Kagain's eyes narrowed to slits, his blue irises glinting in the dimly-lit lobby.

"Furthermore," Rodei went on. "I convinced them to make you an offer; you hand over the little groundling, and all will be forgiven. You'll get back your things, your furniture, your copper-earning contracts…I even got them to throw in the bounty." He leered at the party before turning away to resume his pacing. "And out of concern for our friendship, Kagain, I added a gift of my own." He stopped in front of Kagain. "Ten thousand gold."

Eldoth immediately looked around the lobby at the Dented Shield mercenaries; heads and eyes were now turning towards the party.

Khalid and Ajantis moved in front of Dorean, the squire's hands clenched at his sides while the half-elf rested his left hand almost casually on the pommel of his sword. Rodei spared a second to smirk at them before turning back to Kagain.

"You going to take it or not?" he drawled, blowing more tobacco smoke over Kagain's head. "I have better things to do than to stand here all day."

A long moment passed.

Kagain then lifted his head, looking up at Rodei. "A full pardon," he said softly.

Rodei nodded slowly, his smug smile widening from ear to ear. As more Dented Shield eyes looked their way, Eldoth, Garrick, Imoen and Jaheira all slowly moved away from each other to form a line. Eldoth stole a glance at Dorean, noting the rise and fall of the little dwarf's back from his low, heavy breathing.

Kagain did not look at the party. His gaze remained fixed on Rodei. To the dwarf's right, Montaron remained perfectly still, having not moved a muscle since Eldoth first saw him standing in the lobby.

Five seconds passed.

"Sergeant," said Kagain.

Rodei's brow furrowed. He turned slowly and presented his face just in time for Lene's ham-sized fist to smash his nose. His head rocked back as he staggered, blood spattering his immaculately polished armour.

"You _bitch_ \- !" he snarled, drawing his sword. Lene's hand grasped the handle of her massive scimitar, and she froze when Kagain stepped between them.

"Hope ya got my answer loud an' clear, Rodei," the dwarf said calmly, turning to face the furious officer who was now glaring with venomous hate at Lene.

"You let that filthy orc put her hands on me?"

"Yeah, an' it pains me greatly," Kagain replied. "I'll have ta make it up ta her."

Rodei's bloodied face turned red with fury as the laughter of the Dented Shields filled the lobby. "You know what you've done, you fat little freak?"

"Aye," said Kagain, his blue eyes hardening. "I know _exactly_ what I've done." He stepped towards Rodei, ignoring the man's sword. "Run back to ya masters an' ya tell 'em this; I don't go back on my word. An' I don't forget or forgive." He paused, letting the words linger. "You tell 'em that. An' tell Eltan that he'll be seein' me real soon."

Rodei stared down past his broken and bloody nose at Kagain. His mail-clad body then quaked as he laughed at the dwarf. " _You_ are going to war with the _Flaming Fist_? You and this rabble?"

"Ya people started this, Rodei. I'm gonna finish it," Kagain growled. "Thanks for the message. Now get out of my place."

Rodei glared hatefully at him for a moment before stalking towards the double doors. He slowed as he passed Lene.

"You'll pay, green-skin."

Violently shoving open the doors, Rodei stepped out into the sunlight, his white cape billowing behind him. The doors then swung back and slammed shut, the sound echoing loudly throughout the bare lobby.

Eldoth tilted his head, noting the looks of trepidation on the faces of more than a few of Kagain's mercenaries.

"We should get back underground," said Montaron, finally showing signs of life. "Get outta Beregost an' to Nashkel now." Kagain looked at him but said nothing.

"The Flaming Fist will be watching the roads south," said Ajantis. "And we have not the supplies for a journey through the wilderness." He paused. "I will go into town and -"

"No," said Xzar, squeezing Ajantis' shoulders. The squire flinched and leaned away at his touch. "You will be seen and arrested and executed on false charges."

"Well, _I_ am going," said Eldoth, stepping forward and turning to face both the party and Kagain. "My lady awaits me in Beregost. I will not leave without her."

"Good," said Montaron. "Ye can stay here, then." Eldoth's head snapped towards him, and the former partners glared daggers at each other.

Something drew Eldoth's eye, and he looked away and blinked at Khalid putting down his sword and shield, then removing his sheath and sword-belt and placing them on the floor as well.

"Khalid?" said Imoen. The Calishite paused in the midst of removing his armour. He looked at her and Dorean standing side-by-side, their eyes wide with mixed worry and curiosity. He then turned away, and Eldoth's brow furrowed as he watched Khalid hand his armour to Jaheira, whose expression was just as unreadable as his, before going over to Kagain.

"Back exit," Khalid said shortly.

Kagain looked up at him with narrowed eyes, and was silent for only a few seconds. "Through there," he replied, jerking his head toward the doorway leading to the interior of the building. "Third on the right."

Khalid turned, looked again at Dorean and Imoen, then nodded solemnly to Jaheira before moving quickly towards the doorway, ignoring the collective gaze of everyone in the lobby.

A long pause followed in his wake, with more than a few suspicious or quizzical looks aimed at Jaheira.

"I will go alone to fetch my lady if need be," Eldoth said slowly, breaking the silence. "If the rest of you intend to leave in the meantime, I want to know how I could contact you again. I do not wish for us to end our partnership in this manner."

"Does your lady not have her own escort?" said Ajantis.

"No. She does not," Eldoth replied, grimacing at the paladin. "I cannot explain it now -"

"An' why not?" Montaron snapped.

" _Because_ , I have been sworn to secrecy," Eldoth snapped back, noting the curiosity and suspicion in the party and Kagain's eyes. "I ask again – how will I contact you?"

"The Fist catch and detain ya, they'll get our location outta ya," Kagain growled.

"They will not catch me," Eldoth replied confidently. Kagain snorted and glared, but said nothing. Eldoth looked back to the party and then blinked when Dorean stepped forward.

"Dorean, what are you…?" asked Imoen.

"I owe him, remember?" the dwarf replied. "And it's my fault that -"

With a loud, guttural snarl, Kagain stomped forward and smacked him across the temple. Eldoth winced as he watched Dorean reel backwards into Ajantis' arms.

"Is ya soddin' _brain cut_ , nugget?" Kagain growled. "Ya wanna go out there where they've got ya face plastered on every wall an' noticeboard?! Sodding bloody moron!"

Imoen and Jaheira both took steps toward him, and Garrick hurried forward to stand between them and the mercenary leader.

"I'll go with Eldoth," the minstrel announced. "I know a few spells for long-range communication." He looked around at the party, blinking at Jaheira's frown and Imoen's raised eyebrows. "I have a tendency to get separated from my companions in towns and cities," he added sheepishly. "I just need someone's hair."

The party looked at each other. Xzar then stepped forward and extended his palm, presenting strands of long, dark hair.

"Is that mine?" Ajantis asked as Garrick took them with a nod and smile to Xzar. Kagain looked from Xzar to the two bards for a moment.

"We don't hear from ya in six hours, we're leavin' ya behind." He glared again at Dorean. "An' if I see a single Fist anywhere nearby when ya show up, I'll personally gut the both'a ya myself."

"That's reasonable," said Garrick, his voice betraying not even a hint of sarcasm. He turned to Eldoth, ignoring Kagain's glare. "You ready, partner?"

 _Partner?_ Eldoth's eyebrow rose further, but he nevertheless accepted Garrick's offered handshake.

"Splendid," Garrick declared. He turned back to the party. "We're off, then. Best not to waste any time. I'll contact you as soon as we are outside Beregost."

With that, the minstrel turned back to Eldoth, placed an arm around the latter's shoulders and spun him around.

Eldoth allowed himself to be led towards the same doorway that Khalid had earlier gone through. He glanced at Garrick's eager, excited face before looking over his shoulder and giving the party and mercenaries an exasperated roll of his eyes just before they disappeared from sight.

..

* * *

"I _told_ you he is crazy," said Xzar, breaking the silence. Everyone looked at him.

"Will they be alright?" said Dorean, looking at the now-empty doorway.

"How about ya worry about yaself instead, idiot?" Kagain snapped. "In case ya forgotten, _you're_ the one the Fist are after." He waved to his men to fall in behind him and then stomped towards the party. "Outta the way!"

The party stood aside, glaring after Kagain as he led his men into the storage room and through the secret door leading back into the Upperdark.

"Start with the lungs," Xzar muttered loudly over the footfalls of the passing mercenaries, earning looks from them and the party. "Use a small fire. Heat the water slowly. _Every breath_ will be agony. His self-healing will slow the bleeding, so he will last at least-"

"Xzar," said Imoen.

"Hm?" the wizard blinked at her, ignoring the looks from the other party members.

"Stop reciting creepy recipes."

Xzar paused. He then pouted and stamped his foot, but immediately wilted when Imoen's eyes dropped to half-lids. He looked down at his feet, now meek and silent.

"That man offered him everything," Dorean said quietly as the last mercenary disappeared into the shadows beyond the secret door in the empty storage room. "And he still wouldn't give me up."

"I doubt it was out of compassion," said Ajantis. "More likely he refuses to bow to the Flaming Fist in front of his men. We can expect further demands of payment from him as well." He hesitated when Dorean lowered his head, and placed a hand on the dwarf's shoulder. "I admire your willingness to risk your life by going with Eldoth, but -"

"It was foolish and thoughtless," Jaheira said coldly, gathering up Khalid's equipment. "He and Garrick will be safer without you."

"I gotta say, little brother," said Imoen, looking down at Dorean. "Jaheira's got a point." She frowned at her roommate. "You're usually a lot smarter than that."

Moving behind him, Imoen gave the dwarf a gentle push. He allowed himself to be guided with the rest of the party towards the storage room.

Feeling Xzar and Montaron's eyes on him, Dorean kept his gaze fixed straight ahead as he followed Jaheira and Ajantis back into the Upperdark.

..

* * *

Eldoth stopped in the middle of the alleyway. He lifted his head and closed his eyes, sparing a moment to bask in the afternoon sun.

It felt good to be back in Beregost, even if the town was pitiful in size and opportunities compared to Baldur's Gate.

Lowering his head, Eldoth opened his eyes and saw Garrick several paces ahead, lurking at corners and making obviously suspicious left-to-right head-turns to check their surroundings.

 _The excitable fool will surely draw attention if I do not rein him in._

"Calm yourself," said Eldoth, walking over and prodding Garrick in the back.

"Sorry," Garrick replied. "What happened back there made me nervous."

Eldoth raised an eyebrow, but held back a comment. Walking past Garrick, he led the man through the alleyway's exit.

"Still, I am glad to be back on the surface," Garrick prattled on. "It might have been quiet, but the Upperdark is…not a pleasant place."

 _Ah,_ thought Eldoth. _A coward, then. So that's at least one reason why he volunteered to accompany me._

Upon exiting the empty side-street into a main street, Eldoth, his vision still recovering from the long hours spent underground, blinked at the numerous glints of sunlight on metal.

A group of no less than fifteen Flaming Fist mercenaries marched by. Their eyes moved over Eldoth and Garrick, a few narrowing in suspicion while others (mostly female, though a few male ones as well) noted them with a different interest Eldoth was far too used to.

The bard felt a twinge of annoyance that at least half of the 'interested' gazes were directed at Garrick instead of him. He glanced to his side and resisted the urge to roll his eyes when he saw the young fop waving at the patrol.

"Come on," said Eldoth. "Feldepost's is not far." He walked away, not looking to see if Garrick would follow.

Whereas before Eldoth left with the caravan the town's armed populace was mostly militia, now the Flaming Fist seemed to have arrived in force in Beregost.

The bardic duo passed by three more fifteen-man patrols, one of which stopped to question a merchant who looked anything but pleased when the line of potential customers in front of his stall began to melt away.

Eldoth imagined Khalid being stopped and attempting unsuccessfully to stutter his way out of being questioned by the Flaming Fist. A smirk rose to his lips.

"The town is under lockdown," Garrick breathed, falling into step beside Eldoth. He then appeared to spot something and jogged towards a nearby notice board, his crossbow bouncing against his back. Eldoth strolled over, watching Garrick stop in front of the now-familiar sketch of Dorean's face.

"They've doubled it," Garrick muttered as Eldoth reached his side. "Six thousand gold."

 _Again? Is Entar truly so obsessed with capturing that dwarf?_ Eldoth frowned as he read the notice; it appeared to be a near-exact copy of the one Xzar had given to Dorean after the latter's escape from the Friendly Arm Inn. "It's not the only reward that has been doubled." He pointed at the face-sketches of Xzar and Montaron, below which the number one thousand now lay instead of five hundred.

 _Rodei was not bluffing. Between the heavy Flaming Fist presence and the ever-increasing bounty…_ Eldoth's thoughts went for the umpteenth time to Safana's scheme. _Why did I ever agree to it?_

"You two," a loud, sharp voice behind them barked. Eldoth calmly looked over his shoulder while Garrick, in contrast, jumped and spun around.

Four men stood before them, Flaming Fist badges displayed on the chests of their studded gambesons. Eldoth's half-lidded eyes moved over them, noting short-swords and bows in absence of swords, spears or shields, before resting on the foremost of the group. "Officer," he greeted.

"State your business here in Beregost," the man ordered.

"We are here to seek our fortune, as minstrels and as mercenaries."

The officer's eyes narrowed. "From which direction did you travel?"

"North, sir, from Baldur's Gate," Eldoth replied smoothly.

"By horse? Alone?"

"We left the Friendly Arm after your fellow officers arrived with a caravan bearing news that the bandits between there and the town had been scattered. Thank you very much, by the way," Eldoth added, drawing a contemptuous glare from one of the mercs.

"You're both mercenaries?" asked the officer, his scepticism obvious.

"More minstrels than mercenaries, to be honest," Garrick replied sheepishly. "Though I am not inexperienced with the sword or bow," he added. The glaring mercenary snorted in response. Garrick frowned at him.

"Is this true?" Eldoth asked, jerking his thumb at the bounty notice behind them. "Eight thousand gold for only three men?" He grinned. "Quite a bounty, gentlemen."

"And you fancy-shorts think you'll be the ones to get it?" the glaring one retorted.

 _Bait him._

Eldoth shrugged. "Who knows? We may succeed where you failed. No offense."

"We lost _seven men_ to those Zhent ba -"

"Corporal," the officer said tersely.

"Sir," came the sullen reply.

The officer glared down his subordinate for a few seconds before turning back to the bardic duo.

"There is a strict curfew in place. Anyone found outside after nightfall will be arrested. Remember that." The officer turned and marched away, the other three following him. He stopped after six paces and turned back to Eldoth and Garrick. "Free advice; stick to minstrel-work. Leave the bounty-hunting to the professionals." He turned away again and marched off with his men.

The corporal paused to leer at Eldoth, who smiled in response and waited until he turned away before slipping a tiny poison dart the size of his little finger from its hidden sheath in his shirt-sleeve and flicking it into the man's neck. The corporal made an irritated grunt, raised a hand and smacked the back of his neck, mistaking the pricking sensation for a mosquito.

Eldoth turned back to Garrick. The younger bard was watching the retreating patrol. Along with the nearby townsfolk, he appeared not to have noticed anything.

"Getting doubts about joining up with us?" Eldoth asked, keeping his voice low and friendly as he led his fellow bard away from the notice board and down the street. "Not that I would blame you."

Garrick looked at the ground with shuttered eyes for a moment. "I have some doubts, yes. But I still have a debt to pay." He smiled. "And I wouldn't miss it for anything."

Eldoth slowed, furrowing his brow at the younger minstrel. "You wouldn't?"

Garrick shook his head. He looked up as they entered the town square, his gaze alighting on the stone monument in its centre. "The past seven days have been more exciting for me than anything in the last three months." His smile widened, exposing rows of teeth that Eldoth noted with annoyance were nearly as clean as his own despite neither of them having had a decent bath in the past three days. "Caravan battles, run-ins with the law, close encounters with violent rangers…that's enough to fill half a book, don't you think? And it's only the beginning!" He looked at Eldoth. "What about you? Aren't you excited?"

Eldoth's eyebrow rose. He smiled and looked away. "Perhaps. But for now, I merely wish to be reunited with my lady."

"Who is she?" asked Garrick. "Is she beautiful?"

Eldoth chuckled. "I am afraid I cannot answer to either; at her request, I have promised not to reveal anything of her without her permission."

Garrick's eyes widened in excited curiosity once more. "Is she concealing her noble status, or her real identity?"

Eldoth deliberately frowned, making sure Garrick noticed it. "You have quite an imagination, Garrick."

"I'm just fascinated by interesting people."

Eldoth raised an eyebrow at him. "Do you find _me_ interesting?"

"Oh, certainly," Garrick answered, lowering his voice. "You are a Zhent and former partner of Montaron."

For a half-second, Eldoth's eye-lids lowered. Seemingly failing to notice, Garrick continued talking.

"Also, you are a fellow bard. Though I am confident I am the better musician."

"Really?" said Eldoth, amusement dripping from the two spoken syllables. "We should compare songs one day."

Reaching the front gate of Feldepost's Inn, the two bards began to follow the path leading to the entrance, ignoring a nearby Flaming Fist patrol.

"Come to I think of it," said Garrick. "I may have heard of Nindil Jalbuck. He was rumoured to have been an information broker."

"I have heard the same," Eldoth replied, keeping his voice calm.

"Odd that he would be close to where you and Montaron chose to fight." Garrick froned in thought. "Also, you barely spoke of yourself in that story."

"There is not much to speak of me in it. I merely played a supporting role."

Garrick blinked at him before evidently turning his attention to the inn. Eldoth allowed the younger bard to enter first.

 _I need to be cautious. He may be naïve, but he is also the curious sort who prods for details._

Eldoth then recalled Dorean volunteering to join him in retrieving Skie.

 _It seems he is no exception to the dwarvish value of repaying one's debts._ A smirk rose to his lips. _A more gullible dwarf I have yet to meet. With this many fools in the party, I might have more playing cards than I expected. Still…_ He thought of Montaron. _It may be prudent to get rid of him first._

..

* * *

The common room had more-or-less the same clientele it had when Eldoth last left Beregost, with a few changes; there was now a more subdued tone to the atmosphere, likely due to the two mail-clad Flaming Fist officers who were sitting at the bar and speaking to the innkeeper's wife. Like the merchant from earlier, she seemed unhappy with their presence and questions.

 _No sign of Safana or Skie. They must both be in their room._ Eldoth paused, and his eyes narrowed. _If they're not, I will find them both and -_

"It seems Mister Feldepost had a terrible accident the night before we left Beregost," Garrick said, his voice hushed. "He hasn't been seen since."

Eldoth frowned, glancing at the two officers. "Never mind Feldepost for now," he muttered back. "Find a table. I'll head upstairs and bring my lady here."

"Why can't I go with you?"

"Manners make the gentleman, Garrick. You are a friend whom I am introducing to a noble-born woman. It will help our story if the officers get suspicious."

Garrick pouted, but then glanced at the Flaming Fist officers at the bar; one of them had turned his head and was now scrutinizing the bardic duo. "Alright," he relented. "Don't take too long. I don't like being left alone here."

 _Coward._ "Have a drink and relax, my friend. I will return shortly."

Patting Garrick on the shoulder, Eldoth strode briskly towards the stairs, climbing them to the third floor.

Two more Flaming Fist mercenaries stood in the corridor. Unlike the officers in the common room, they were dressed in splint-mail armour and neither wore nor carried helmets, hinting at lower rank or status.

The mercs appeared to be questioning an old, portly man in the doorway of one of the floor's many rooms, and were holding out an opened scroll towards him. The tenant reluctantly took it, and Eldoth caught a glimpse of its contents as he passed.

 _Another bounty notice. Are they really handing those out to everyone?_

One of the mercenaries turned to look at Eldoth. The bard gave him an unsmiling, half-lidded frown, displaying open contempt for their disturbing others. The mercenary's lip curled in a derisive sneer. With his chin lifted and his nose in the air, Eldoth strolled past without a backward glance.

The door to his destination opened before he had gotten within five paces of it.

"Eldoth!"

The bard did not stagger even slightly as Skie ran to and wrapped her arms around him.

"Skie," he said, pouring warm relief into the single spoken syllable.

"You're back. Oh, you are back," the girl breathed. She lifted her head to look up at him, and Eldoth did not hesitate. He kissed her, matching genuine passion with artificial.

 _Let her break the kiss first._

Skie did, her eyes shining up at him as she returned Eldoth's smile with one of her own, clearly believing it to be for her rather than for himself. "I was so worried…"

"Let's go inside," Eldoth said softly. She nodded fervently and took his hand in hers. He allowed her to lead him into the room, watching with eyes half-lidded in bemusement as she briefly turned her back to him to close and lock the door.

"Are you alright?" Skie asked, turning back to him and placing her hands on his chest. "Do you need to rest or eat…?"

"A hot meal would be welcome, but not now," Eldoth replied. He placed his hands on her shoulders. "I am glad you are well," he said, then added in hushed seriousness, "Has anyone seen you? Did you leave the room at all?"

"No, not even once," Skie answered. She moved her hands to rub Eldoth's forearms. "Safana's been so helpful; she brought me meals and books while you were away. She also brought news and notice papers. When I heard that the caravan had been attacked…" She hesitated, then buried her face in Eldoth's chest again. The bard reached up and stroked her hair, his other hand wrapping around her torso and holding her close.

 _So easy to ensnare._

"I told you not to worry for Eldoth, little sister," a familiar voice spoke from behind the bard. "He is perfectly capable of looking after himself."

"Safana," said Eldoth, not turning around. "Good to know you are safe as well."

"As safe as we can be, given the circumstances," Safana replied, walking over as Skie broke the hug while maintaining her grip on Eldoth's forearms. "There are far more of Duke Eltan's men in the town now. I was questioned three times this morning."

Eldoth frowned as he turned to her. "Did they knock on this door?"

"They did," Safana answered. She folded her arms and leaned slightly to one side, accentuating a hip. Eldoth blinked but otherwise managed to keep his eyes on her face. "I answered while Skie stayed out of sight. It was easy enough not to arouse their suspicions." She smirked. "Men are so easy to distract, aren't they, little sister?"

Skie frowned and resumed rubbing Eldoth's forearms. "Stop calling me that, Safana," she grumbled.

"We have not drawn unwelcome attention," Safana said, ignoring her. "But I hope we do not remain in Beregost for much longer."

"Me too," Skie concurred. "I have had enough of this room."

"We can leave today," Eldoth said firmly. Skie's head shot up, her eyes wide. "But first I need to warn you; I did not come here alone. One of my current travelling companions is waiting downstairs."

Skie's eyes widened further as her whole body tensed. "Is it…one of _his_ people?"

"Yes," Eldoth replied solemnly. "I have integrated myself into his party."

Skie looked at him for a long moment before slowly releasing his arms and stepping away. She crossed the room and stopped in front of the bedside table, looking down at a scroll which Eldoth recognized as yet another bounty notice.

"Did…" she hesitated and took a deep breath, placing a hand on the notice. "Did you learn anything? Is he the one who…?"

"I do not know yet, my dear. He claims he is falsely accused. His party seem to believe him." Eldoth paused. "They are being protected by a dozen Dented Shield mercenaries. They are also cautious; at least two of them already distrust me."

Skie's reaction was exactly what he expected; she looked up at him, her expression pale, then hurried over and embraced him again. "I shouldn't have put you in danger, Eldoth."

 _No. You shouldn't_ , Eldoth thought, his mood turning black. He wanted to turn around and glare at Safana. Instead, he stroked Skie's hair a second time. "Do not blame yourself, Skie. It isn't your fault."

"No, it is!" Skie cried into his chest. "I-I should never have done that! I regretted it as soon as you left!" She broke the hug, wiping at her face.

Eldoth opened his mouth to soothe her further and stopped when she looked up at him, her tear-streaked face suddenly fierce and grim.

"The person downstairs," she said, dead-serious. "Tell me about him."

Eldoth looked at Safana. The woman's eyes were focused on Skie, wide and blinking with surprise. He wondered if his own expression was similar.

He turned back to Skie, whose face was still set in tight-jawed determination, and started to ponder if Safana was not the only one whose wild ideas he needed to worry about.

..

* * *

When Eldoth and Skie entered the common room, it took Eldoth a moment to locate Garrick; he had selected a table in the back, as far as possible from the mercenaries, and was now cradling a pint of ale in his hands while his eyes darted around with near-obvious nervousness.

Eldoth felt tempted to go over, grab Garrick's pint and smash it in his face. Instead, he took Skie by the arm and led her toward the table.

 _Not that I'll have any problem finding the party myself, but if this idiot turns out to not be able to, I'll make sure he dies slowly._

Garrick perked up upon spotting Eldoth and rose to his feet.

"My lady," said Eldoth. "This is Garrick, formerly of the Dale Wind Troubadours."

Garrick bowed. "A pleasure, my lady."

Skie inclined her head, but otherwise remained silent. Garrick blinked, then hurriedly stood to one side. "Oh, where are my manners? Please, have a seat." The young minstrel watched with strained patience as Eldoth and Skie ordered their meals. When the barmaid moved away, Skie leaned back in her seat to look at Garrick, her eyes filled with obvious wariness.

"Eldoth has told me that you are trustworthy," she said at last, her voice low and calm. "I hope you do not prove him wrong." She held Garrick's gaze for a long moment. "I am Skie of Baldur's Gate; daughter to Piergeiron the Paladinson."

Slowly, almost comically, Garrick's eyes widened to the size of saucers.

"My mother is a Baldurian noblewoman. She met Lord Piergeiron a few years after his wife Maethiira died." Skie paused, her eyes fixed on Garrick's. "You'll forgive me for not revealing her name. She is married to another man, and I have no wish to besmirch her reputation."

"Of…of course, my lady," Garrick stammered. Eldoth fought down a smirk.

 _She is playing the part better than I anticipated._ He made a mental note to thank Safana for coaching the girl, even if the details of her false identity and background were mostly of his own concoction.

"Aleena Paladinstar seeks my life," Skie said, maintaining her cool and calm demeanor. "Eldoth pledged to protect me. We arrived in Beregost with little coin, and he joined the caravan escort in other to sustain our funds. I understand the Flaming Fist stole the contract for that caravan." She paused. "Eldoth tells me that Captain Kagain, the leader of the Dented Shields, is a man of his word; that if he agrees to escort me to Amn, he will not betray me to Aleena, though he will likely charge me a steep price. However, he also said that he cannot say the same about the party accompanying the Dented Shields. Your party. One of whom is accused of thievery, murder and the disappearance of a Baldurian nobleman."

Garrick's eyes flicked to Eldoth's. The latter shrugged, resisting the urge to glance at Skie. Feeling the anger bubbling in the young woman seated beside him, Eldoth gently eased a hand onto the small of her back. _Careful, now. Don't give the game away._

"My lady," Garrick said hesitantly. "Thank you for your trust in me." He paused, then leaned forward and spoke a conspiratorial whisper. "You are correct. The three men currently being hunted by the Flaming Fist are among my companions. For now, our destination is south, to Nashkel. If you wish to join us, we can protect you, at least until we reach the town."

"And why, pray tell, would we wish to join you?" a voice spoke from behind Garrick. The bard jumped and then flinched as Safana glided onto the chair beside him.

"It seems to me," she said. "That Skie and Eldoth would only be in further danger if they were to travel with wanted criminals."

Garrick hesitated, leaning away from her, then straightened and frowned. "And who might you be?"

"Safana has pledged to protect me as well," said Skie. "She and Eldoth have taken good care of me since I was forced to leave Baldur's Gate, at great personal risk to themselves."

Garrick raised an eyebrow. "Forgive me, my lady, but you have made me curious as to why."

"Your questions shall be answered in good time," Safana replied. "But now is not that time." Her eyes flicked to the two Flaming Fist officers sitting at the bar. "I suggest you hold onto them until we have left Beregost." She laid her finger on the lip of Garrick's ale-mug. "In the meantime, what would you say to buying me a drink?"

Garrick looked down at Safana's finger, then at her face. After a moment, he raised his arm to hail a nearby barmaid.

Eldoth smirked before glancing at Skie; the girl's eyes were still fixed on Garrick, who luckily was currently distracted with his attempts to politely persuade Safana to relinquish her hold on his drink. He gave Skie's back a light squeeze. She looked up at him, and he winked at her.

 _Good work, Skie._

She was still for a moment, then released a quiet breath as she spotted a barmaid with a full serving tray approaching their table. Eldoth watched with detached amusement as Skie scowled at the barmaid eyeing her lover.

Turning her attention to the served dishes, Safana finally gave Garrick back his pint, and the young bard appeared simultaneously relieved and put-out at her diverted attention.

 _Perhaps I should not credit Skie's performance so much,_ thought Eldoth. _This one may be even easier to fool than she._ _Safana should be able to at least distract some of the men in the party. From what I have seen of them, they will be wet clay in her hands._ He paused, and for a half-second, his eyes narrowed as he glanced at the former pirate. __I may need to be careful of that.__

Safana's eyes met his, and her lips rose very slightly in a barely-noticeable smile. It took Eldoth a moment to realize that his gaze was lingering on them, and he quietly looked away.

..

* * *

At Safana's whispered instruction, Garrick refrained from asking further questions, instead joining her, Skie and Eldoth in concentrating on their meals and occasionally exchanging brief and pointless banter to stave off suspicion from any onlookers (of which there were quite a number thanks to both Eldoth and Safana) When their plates were near-empty, Safana offered to return the room key. She sauntered to the counter, the eyes of many male patrons including Garrick's following her. The two Flaming Fist officers had not left the bar, and their subordinates from upstairs had apparently yet to finish bothering the tenants.

 _We should leave before they tire of their drinks and decide to question the common room._

Nodding to Skie, Eldoth rose and led both her and Garrick to the exit.

As they reached the front gate outside, a familiar figure standing under a nearby alcove crossed the street and stopped in front of them.

"Khalid?" said Garrick. "Where have you been?"

The half-elf said nothing. His face was emotionless; uncannily similar to Montaron's usual expression. His eyes slid to Skie, who took a small, involuntary backward step onto Eldoth's foot.

"Khalid?" Garrick said again. "Are you alright?"

Eldoth frowned and opened his mouth to speak when the sound of numerous running armoured feet drew his gaze. A combined three patrols of Flaming Fist totalling nearly fifty in number appeared from the north. Townsfolk hurried out of their path as they thundered down the street past the inn.

His frown deepening, Eldoth looked past them and saw black plumes of smoke rising above the rooftops.

 _Is that coming from the Jovial Juggler?_

"...Khalid," Garrick said a third time, slow and apprehensive. "What did you do?"

The half-elf gave no reply. His eyes looked past them, and Eldoth could not help but look over his own shoulder.

Safana stood at the doorway to the front entrance, apparently having just exited the inn. Her gaze was locked onto Khalid's, her face not quite blank yet displaying something Eldoth could not read. The bard's eyes narrowed. _What is -?_

"We should go," the Harper said, his voice quiet and emotionless.


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter 42

Without waiting to see if they would follow, Khalid moved down the street towards the smoke. Garrick nervously looked at the others before scurrying after him. Eldoth hesitated, then took Skie's hand, and she jogged to keep pace with his long strides.

People elbowed and shouldered each other in their haste to investigate the rising black clouds. Skie and her companions were quickly swept up in the tide and Eldoth moved behind her, shielding her with his broad frame. She squeezed his hand out of gratitude and to stave off her mounting anxiety.

Garrick staggered and nearly fell as people shoved past him. Khalid on the other hand was not impeded in the slightest. When he reached a slight bend in the road, Skie caught a glimpse of his quiet, emotionless face through the crowd. Her eyes went to the smoke and she felt a chill run down her back.

She remembered the guilt from sending Eldoth away six days ago. When she heard a few days later that the caravan had been attacked by a bandit army, she had grown so distraught that Safana took her out against Eldoth's wishes and brought her to the Jovial Juggler. There, Skie was able to stave off her fears and worries, losing herself in the music and dancing. The cheery, carefree atmosphere had been a thoroughly welcome relief from the sullen moodiness that seemed to infect every other part of the town. It had given her the strength to tough out the next several days shut up in her room in Feldepost's, anxiously awaiting Eldoth's return.

A blast of fiery-hot air hit her as she, Eldoth and Garrick rounded a corner. She flinched, shielding her eyes from the heat, then opened them to see the Juggler in flames.

"Milil have mercy!" Garrick cried.

Flaming Fist, temple guards and town militia had surrounded the building. Most of them were struggling to put out the blaze with buckets and spells while others attempted to keep back onlookers. Skie spotted the old paladin Bjornin among them, hefting a barrel of water.

An anguished cry pierced through the sounds of crackling flames and collapsing wood, and Skie saw the Juggler's innkeeper fall to his knees, the dwarf Gurke placing a hand on his shoulder.

She felt Eldoth grip her shoulders and steer her away. Garrick followed close behind as Eldoth barged and elbowed his way through the crowd. She saw Khalid waiting for them beneath an overhang. His face was still devoid of emotion. Despite the intense heat from the fire, a cold feeling rose in her belly as they approached, and she leaned back into Eldoth as the half-elf stepped forward.

"Leave by the southern gate," Khalid ordered calmly. "I will meet you there." Without waiting for an answer, he headed down a side-street.

Skie watched until she could no longer see him in the crowds, then looked at the two bards. Garrick's face had gone pale, and he was shooting glances between Khalid and the burning inn behind them. Eldoth was grimly staring at the spot where Khalid had disappeared.

"Let's go," said Safana's voice. Skie jumped; she had forgotten the other woman's presence.

The quartet hurried away from the Juggler, Eldoth again keeping Skie in front of him and using his broad frame to muscle through the crowds.

There was a deafening crash behind them, and Skie looked over her and Eldoth's shoulders to see the entire second floor of the inn collapse in a billowing cloud of ash and splinters. The townsfolk yelled and reeled back as the mercenaries, guardsmen and militia redoubled their efforts to keep them away from the blaze.

Skie looked away, panic clawing at her chest as Eldoth steered her down the street.

 _What have I gotten us into?_

..

* * *

A rowdy crowd had formed in front of the palisade's southern exit, most of them carrying packs while merchants and nobles sat on wagons or saddlebag-laden horses.

Panic and fear permeated the street. People jostled, shoved and elbowed to reach the exit. Several town militia waded in to break up a fight between a group of peasants.

Skie, Eldoth, Safana and Garrick joined the queue. Surrounded by a crowd of nervous and anxious people, none of them dared to speak of Khalid's possible involvement in the Juggler's destruction.

As they shuffled forward with the line, Eldoth still protectively holding her in front of him, snatches of conversation from all around reached Skie's ears.

"Had enough of this, I don't care about this being our home…"

"Travenhursts all butchered in their beds, a patrol murdered the same night, madwomen throwing lightning around and sell-swords killing each other in the Sheaf! 'Everything under control' my arse, I'm getting the hell outta…"

"Never liked the Shields, but now who's gonna guard the caravans an' roads? What are Kelddath an' the Dukes playing at?"

"Fist only care about catching that dwarf. Silvershield cares more about his dead son than the people he's supposed to be looking after."

Skie felt her heart sink, and looked down at her boots. Eldoth's chest press into her back, and his arms wrapped protectively around her. Her hands found his, taking comfort in their strength.

She then felt rather than heard Garrick tense up beside them and lifted her eyes to see nearly thirty Flaming Fist mercenaries streaming into the area. Half of them joined the militia in stopping people at the palisade exit, which elicited an outcry, while the other half split into groups of three and began moving through the crowd. The mutterings intensified as the roaming mercenaries scrutinized faces and ordered people to remove their hoods or hats. A merchant who refused got a cuff across the cheek.

In contrast to Garrick, Eldoth seemed relaxed. Skie felt his hand squeeze hers. She breathed slow and deep, willing herself not to panic as a trio of Flaming Fist scouts moved toward them.

"You!" One of them shouted, pointing at Eldoth who was the tallest of the four. "State your business and purpose here!"

Eldoth's head slowly turned, his eyes boring into the mercenary's. At his grim, unfriendly demeanour, the other two Flaming Fist moved their hands to their weapons.

"Business?" said Eldoth, not intimidated by the gesture. " _Purpose_?" He let go of Skie. "You want to know our business?"

The mercenaries did not flinch or step back, though they stopped and briefly glanced at each other as Eldoth stepped menacingly towards them.

"You want to know our business?" he said, his voice growing louder with every word. "Well I'll tell you! My friend and I answered _your_ company's request for volunteers to defend that caravan. We risked our lives to protect it, we nearly got _killed_ for it, and when we got back, you _refused to_ _pay_ us!"

Mutters and hostile looks arose from the crowd, almost all of them directed at the Flaming Fist. The leader of the trio glared daggers at Eldoth and straightened, ignoring the surrounding onlookers.

"If you have a complaint, freelancer, I suggest you – "

"You _asked_ for us!" Eldoth yelled, taking another few steps towards the trio. "You _promised_ we'd be paid! Is this how the Flaming Fist rewards those who help them?!"

The mutterings increased. The officer ignored them and sneered at Eldoth.

"For your information, the caravan never even made it to Baldur's Gate. Your contract was to escort it there. Since you failed to uphold – "

"We almost _died_ defending it," Eldoth snarled. "And you're giving me this?" He stepped forward with his fists clenched. "I have half a mind to-"

The officer drew his sword. "Back off right now or I –"

" _The caravan didn't make it?!"_ a nearby peasant shrieked. The officer's head snapped towards her in alarm, realizing too late what he had said out loud. Skie saw the faces of the other two mercenaries fell just before the crowd erupted.

"We haven't heard of this, what are you hiding from us –"

"My sons were there!"  
"You _told_ us you drove off the bandits, you lying scum!"

"You people are in the Juggler all the time, where the hell were you when – "

"Hey, good-lookin'!" an old, toothless woman hollered eagerly at Eldoth. "Cave that bastard's face in!"  
A chorus of agreement arose and the three mercenaries found themselves surrounded by a ring of shouting, jeering peasants.

"Break it up!" another nearby mercenary yelled, violently shoving people aside as he attempted to get to his comrade. _"Break it up or we'll start making arrests!"_

The officer looked up at the sound of his co-worker's voice. Eldoth sprang forward and decked him hard across the face. Blood sprayed from the man's nose as he staggered backward into his two comrades, bringing all three of them to the ground.

All hell broke loose.

The officer who had threatened to arrest people was immediately overwhelmed. Other groups that were also moving through the throng of civilians were attacked as well. The crowd turned into a mass of fists, feet, clubs and knives.

Skie was jostled hard and struggled to stay on her feet. She spotted Garrick, his bright-coloured clothes making him stand out in the crowd as he blocked a punch from and then shoved away a nearby peasant. The latter fell and was immediately trampled.

Someone grabbed Skie by her shoulder, and she whirled around with her hand on her dagger.

"Roof!" Safana shouted. Skie hesitated for a half-second, then nodded and bolted past her, ducking and weaving until she reached the nearest building. A single leap propelled her up to the overhang, and she scaled the wall to the rooftop in seconds.

Clambering onto the tiles, Skie turned around to help Safana up and her mouth fell open as she saw the carnage below.

The officer whom Eldoth had punched was being beaten and stomped to death by enraged townsfolk. Other mercenaries had also fallen and were being torn apart by the mob. One of them was held down by three peasants while a forth hefted a brick. Skie felt bile in her throat and hurriedly looked away as the man raised the brick up high with both hands.

Safana tugged on Skie's sleeve. "This way! Hurry!"

As she followed the Calishite woman across the roof, Skie watched the remaining Flaming Fist rally at the palisade exit, raising their shields against thrown stones and debris.

Safana skidded to a halt near the roof's edge. "We'll have to jump!"

Skie's eyes darted to the palisade, gauging the distance, and then widened as she watched the rallied Flaming Fist launch a volley of spells into the crowd. She froze, unable to tear her gaze away as commoners, merchants and nobles alike either rushed the human barricade and were cut down or trampled each other in their haste to get away.

"Skie!" Safana shouted, grabbing her by the shoulders and spinning her around to face her. "We have to go now!"

"W-what about Eldoth? I'm not leaving without him!"  
"He'll be fine, he's been through worse than this. I promise we'll meet him later. Now come on!"

Without waiting for an answer, Safana hopped back a few steps and took a running leap off the roof's edge. She hit the palisade hands-first and immediately began to climb.

Panic flooded Skie at the thought of being left alone, and her feet moved as though of their own accord. She cleared the distance, struck the palisade hands-first like Safana and swiftly climbed, forcing herself to ignore the screams and cries below.

The duo reached the top, and despite fearing what she might see, Skie turned her head to survey the crowd, desperately searching for her lover. Her heart leaped into her throat when she saw several mercenaries' faces turn toward her.

"Jump, now!" Safana shouted.

Skie threw herself off the palisade. She felt the rush of arrows just behind her, and then the ground rushed up to greet her.

They both landed and rolled at almost the same time, Skie springing to her feet an instant sooner than Safana. "Come on," the latter breathed. Skie hesitated, looked back at the palisade and gasped upon seeing a man pulling himself on top of it only to be hit in the side by a crossbow bolt and fall back out of sight with an agonized cry.

"Skie, _run!_ " Safana shouted as Flaming Fist mercenaries appeared around the palisade.

"No escapees!" An officer's voice rang out. "Stop now or we'll -!"

This time Skie did not look back. She took off at a sprint across the field as arrows sped past. A searing pain tore into her side, and to her own surprise, she neither flinched nor slowed down as she plunged into the woods, the cries and screams of the townspeople trailing after her.

..

* * *

Skie did not know how far or how long she ran. She sprinted past trees and through foliage, the burning pain in her side increasing with every step.

After what felt like a full minute, she slowed to a halt. The pain spiked, and an anguished cry escaped her lips as she looked down to see the arrow embedded in her hip.

Forcing herself to stay upright, Skie staggered to and leaned her back against the nearest tree before looking around.

"Safana?" she called out. "Safana?" she tried again, louder this time.

Panic struck her like a hammer as her eyes darted around the trees and foliage. Her breathing became rapid, and she struggled fruitlessly to remain calm as she started to hyper-ventilate.

A hand came down on her shoulder and she screamed, turning swiftly and sending a razor-sharp burst of pain throughout her side.

"I'm here, Skie," Safana implored, her voice calm yet firm. "Be still."

Relief flooding her senses, Skie leaned back against the tree once more as Safana kneeled and lifted her shirt to examine her wound.

"Straight through the armour," the former pirate said with a grimace. She looked up at Skie. "I'm going to pull it out. Brace yourself."

Skie hesitated, then nodded, breathing deep. Gripping the arrow-shaft near the wound with one hand, Safana then held the feathered end with the other. She paused, glancing up at Skie, then swiftly yanked out the arrow.

An anguished cry escaped Skie's lips, and tears welled up in her eyes. She then felt the cool rush of liquid on her hip as Safana applied a healing draught to the wound, and the pain slowly ebbed from a burning agony to a dull throb in her side.

Standing up, Safana placed a hand on Skie's shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile. Despite the pain and tears, Skie smiled back and placed her own hand on Safana's. After a moment, her eyes widened and her breathing intensified again.

"We need to go back," she said. "We need to – "

"No," Safana replied calmly. "We wait. Do not worry, Skie. Eldoth will find us."

"But how – "

"Just trust me."

Skie looked at Safana's calm, relaxed face. She then slowly nodded and sank down, sitting at the base of the tree. Safana patted her shoulder before turning away to wipe the bloody arrow on a nearby plant.

"I c-can't believe that just happened," Skie stammered. "Everyone just…"

"Hush, sister. Do not dwell on it."

Looking at her friend, Skie forced herself to breathe slowly, trying to stave off the images and sounds threatening to burn themselves into her mind; of people being bludgeoned, beaten and trampled.

They waited in silence, Skie remaining seated while Safana slowly moved around, occasionally turning her head to scan their surroundings.

 _What if he's hurt? What if he's been arrested? And about Garrick? If we lose him, how can we explain it to his people?_

 _His people._

Khalid's face appeared in Skie's mind, and she again felt a chill run down her back.

Safana suddenly stiffened, her head darting to face off to the right. The sound of rustling foliage brought Skie to her feet, and she quickly moved next to Safana as it drew closer.

Three figures appeared out of the undergrowth, two of whom appeared to be supporting the third between them. Skie recognized Garrick by his clothes before she discerned his, Eldoth and Khalid's faces, the last of whom was partially obscured by his helmet.

"Thank the gods!" she breathed, moving towards them.

"What happened?" Safana asked, also approaching the trio as Eldoth and Khalid both kneeled and slowly laid Garrick down on his back.

"Blow to the back of the head," Eldoth answered, looking up at her. "Out cold, but nothing serious." His eyes narrowed upon seeing the blood on Skie's shirt and trousers, and he quickly drew her close to examine it.

"I'm alright," Skie said. She then saw the blood on his temple. "You're – "  
"It's nothing," The bard replied, still examining her wound. "You should see the other guy."

She paused, then threw her arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

When she opened her eyes, she saw Garrick being seen to by Safana and Khalid. The latter now had a sword and was wearing the armor and helmet of a Lathanderite temple guard.

Feeling her eyes on him, Khalid looked up at her. She met his gaze, refusing to look away, and he slowly returned his attention to Garrick.

Satisfied that her wound had been properly treated, Eldoth released her and turned around, facing Garrick, Safana and Khalid.

Skie looked down at Garrick; from his youthful features, she guessed that he could be the same age as her, or perhaps even younger. She found herself hoping that he wouldn't die, and realized that she had been holding her breath when he stirred, groaned and opened his eyes.

"Stay still," said Safana, leaning over him and placing a hand on the crown of his head. The bard blinked up at her for a moment before his eyes moved to Khalid.

"Khalid…where were you? What happened back there?"

"I was about to ask the same," said Eldoth, folding his arms across his chest. "I believe you owe all of us an explanation."

Khalid stared coldly up at Eldoth. His eyes then moved to Skie and then to Safana.

"I think introductions are in order first," Garrick said from the ground. Glancing down at him, Safana patted his head before looking across the supine bard at Khalid.

"My name is Safana, and this is Skie. I presume you already know Eldoth." Safana paused, and when Khalid did not speak, she went on. "We lost nearly all our money during our journey from Baldur's Gate to Beregost. Eldoth joined the caravan, and when he discovered your party, he hoped to elect you to escort us to Amn."

Khalid still said nothing. Safana fell silent as well. The half-elf slowly moved his gaze from her to Skie and then to Eldoth.

"Why are you headed for Amn?" he asked, his eyes fixed on the bard.

Safana and Eldoth both exchanged looks. Garrick remained quiet, eyes darting from them to Skie. She hesitated, then breathed deep and stepped forward.

"I am the illegitimate child of Piergeiron, the Lord of Waterdeep."

Khalid blinked, but otherwise did not react. Skie hesitated again, then took another deep breath and plunged on.

"His daughter Aleena wishes me dead. She has already made more than one attempt on my life. If not for Eldoth and Safana, she would have succeeded. If your people could see us safely to Amn, my mother will reward you greatly."

There was a moment's silence. Khalid still did not speak, and Skie resisted the urge to back away. Garrick slowly sat up, gingerly rubbing the back of his head.

"Khalid," he said, his voice soft. "Nobody's going to force you. But we'd really like to know what happened back there."

Khalid looked at the young bard's face. He then slowly stood up.

"I f-followed Rodei Vai to the Juggler," he said, keeping his eyes on Garrick. "I was h-hoping to find Farrahd." He paused. "I got to the upper floors, but Rodei discovered me. I could have escaped, but I didn't want to lead anyone back to you. So I set fire to the inn."

No one spoke for a long moment.

"How many people were…?" said Garrick.

"None," Khalid answered. "I made sure."

"Did you?" said Eldoth. Khalid glared at him.

"Did you start the riot?"

Skie realized that she had backed away. She drew close to Eldoth, her hand finding his forearm.

"We were about to be arrested. I did what I had to." Khalid stepped towards him. Eldoth did not flinch. "If anyone is to blame, it would be the mercenary who was foolish enough to refer to the caravan not reaching the city in such a way that people thought he meant it was destroyed."

"He's got a point," said Garrick. "Although you _did_ throw the first punch."

"If I hadn't, we would all be in prison," Eldoth replied. "Or worse," he added, putting an arm around Skie and glaring coolly at Khalid. "Would you not have done the same to protect your wife?"

Khalid's eyes dropped to half-lids, and Skie's own widened as she saw his left hand rest almost idly on his sword-pommel. Garrick raised his arms, but before he could speak, Safana stepped between Eldoth and Khalid.

"We need to be on our way," she said firmly. "Garrick, please contact your people."

"Urm…right," the bard replied, his eyes darting from Eldoth to Khalid as he reached for his pack.

"Now, as far as I see it, both of you made decisions for the sake of the group," Safana stated, planting her hands on her hips. "If you want to quarrel about it, I won't stop you. But I hope that it won't descend into violence. We all have enough troubles as it is."

Khalid and Eldoth looked at her and then at each other. After a moment, both men seemed to deflate slightly, albeit still glaring at one another.

"I just spoke with Ajantis," Garrick quickly piped up. "There is a house in the woods to the south, about an hour's walk from the town. The people there know Kagain and would grant us shelter."

"Then we must hurry, before the Flaming Fist think to send search teams for us. Or other escapees," said Safana, looking pointedly at Khalid. The half-elf held her gaze for a moment, glared coldly at Eldoth yet again, then moved to and offered a hand to Garrick. The bard accepted the offer, wincing and rubbing the back of his head as he stood up.

Khalid then turned and quietly walked past all of them. A moment passed before Safana sighed.

"Men," she said. She caught Skie's eye and winked at her before turning to Garrick. "Can you walk?"

The young bard frowned at her. "Yes."

Safana smiled at him, then turned and strode after Khalid. Still frowning at her, Garrick adjusted his pack and followed.

Skie watched the three of them moving off into the undergrowth. She then felt Eldoth move beside her, on the side where she had been wounded. He took her hand in his and gave her a small smile.

As he led her after the others, Skie again took comfort in the firm yet gentle grip of his hand. She looked up at Safana calmly following Khalid, and closed her eyes.

 _This is happening. I am really doing this. I am going to meet the dwarf who Father believes killed Gunnhallur. I must be brave and strong, like Helmut. And I am not alone. I have Eldoth and Safana with me._

She opened her eyes, and her steps became strides as she gripped Eldoth's hand tightly in her own.

 _I_ _ **will**_ _learn what happened to you, Gunnhallur. I promise._

 _.._

* * *

"Hungry?"

Khalid turned his head to look at the wrapping of peppered and unleavened bread. He then looked up at Safana for a moment before shaking his head and turning back to face front.

Behind them, Garrick frowned at Safana's back while Eldoth raised an eyebrow. Beside the latter, Skie regarded Safana as the former pirate walked in silence next to Khalid.

 _Eldoth's spent six days integrating himself into the party. It looks like she is now doing the same thing._ Skie then looked at Garrick who was slightly ahead of her and Eldoth. _I should do the same thing. I'll have to if I want to find out anything about my brother._

Giving Eldoth's hand a squeeze, she then released it and moved up next to the other bard.

"Are you feeling alright?" she asked, noting that he was still occasionally rubbing the back of his head. He blinked and smiled.

"I've had better days," he replied light-heartedly, nodding at her blood-stained hip. "I shouldn't complain. You have had it worse than me, my lady."

"Yes," Skie answered, trying not to think of the burning pain of the arrow.

"The Flaming Fist archers are not only well-trained, they often use enchanted arrows as well," said Garrick. "One usually needs more than luck to avoid their aim."

"I guess I need to give some coin to Tymora," Skie replied, wincing as she placed a hand on the closed wound.

"I saw you leaping from the roof and climbing over the wall. A feat not many could have accomplished so easily."

"Thank you," said Skie. The memory of the rioting crowd filled her mind, and she lowered her gaze. "I am sorry, but I would prefer not to speak of it."

"Oh. Urm…my apologies."

Skie smiled at Garrick. She then glanced over her shoulder at Eldoth who was frowning at Garrick's back. He caught her eye, and she gave him a smile before looking back to the young bard.

"How did you come to know Safana, my lady?" he asked, his gaze now on the former pirate who appeared to have succeeded in getting Khalid to speak to her.

 _Ah. Alright, Skie. Remember your story._

"I met her in Baldur's Gate a year ago. Eldoth introduced me to her."

"He did?" said Garrick, looking back at Eldoth.

"They had worked together on several occasions." She paused, then leaned closer to Garrick. "They're con artists."

Garrick's eyes widened comically, and he cast a nervous glance over his shoulder at a smiling Eldoth. "Urm…"

"I know. At the time, I thought of it too. But they took a liking to me. We became friends and worked with each other many times in the past year."

"By 'work', you mean…"

"I steal things." Garrick's mouth fell open, and despite what had happened today, Skie had to resist the urge to laugh. "Only from bad people. Or who didn't need the items anyway."

Garrick stared at her. After a moment, he closed his jaw. "Ah…I see. Well, my lady, you certainly are more interesting than most noblewomen I have met."

"Thank you."

"Soo, you and Eldoth…"

"You noticed, didn't you?" Skie smiled. "The answer is 'yes'."

Garrick paused and then frowned at Eldoth, adding to the number of people who have given the same reaction upon learning that he and Skie are lovers.

Looking back at and exchanging smiles with Eldoth, Skie was then about to ask Garrick about his party when Eldoth suddenly stopped walking, all amusement fading from his face.

Skie and Garrick both spun around to see that Safana and Khalid had stopped as well. The latter had his right hand on his sword, and Skie could not help but notice that his left hand was now holding the bread that Safana had earlier offered him.

Eldoth moved next to Skie, hands loose at his sides as his head slowly turned to survey their surroundings. Everyone else stayed still.

After a moment, a tall, auburn-haired man stepped around a tree, sunlight reflecting off his chain-mail armor as he stood before the party. He held a longbow in his hands, pointed down yet with the string pulled back and an arrow ready as he regarded the party with narrowed eyes. His gaze lingered on Khalid, who did not release his grip on his sword.

"You a temple guard?" the stranger said at last.

There was a long pause.

"No," said Khalid. The man's eyes narrowed to slits. Skie felt her heart quicken as she saw his hands tighten on his bow.

After a moment, he drew his hands to his sides, removing the arrow and releasing the taut bow-string. "Well, you ain't hobs or ogres."

"Ogres?" said Garrick, sounding more curious than afraid.

"Aye, ogres," the stranger replied. "Can't you smell them? Two, maybe more. And a score'a hobs too."

"Hobs?" said Eldoth.

"Hobgoblins," the man replied impatiently, walking over to them.

"Where?" asked Khalid.

"House 'bout a half-hour south'a here," the stranger answered. Skie felt her heart sink.

"A house? Here in the forest?" said Eldoth.

"Not from around here, are you? I can tell. Place is a lodge for hunters and trappers. Woman by the name of Tamah owned it. Got taken over by them hobs and ogres a few days ago. Hunters and guards put up a good fight, but then this fur-wearin' hob steps up, spends like a half-hour chantin' and wavin' his arms, turned the area into a swamp, right below the damn place. Sank right in with everyone in it."

The party all looked at each other.

"How do you know all this?" Skie asked.

"I was there. Was comin' back from huntin' and saw the whole thing."  
"And you didn't try to help them?" Skie said, her voice rising. Eldoth placed a hand on her shoulder, and for just an instant, she was angry at him.

The stranger shrugged. "Never liked Tamah or her people. Never liked the other hunters too, for that matter. Real shady lot. 'parently, they were in bed with the Dented Shields. Scummy bunch'a sell-swords if I've ever seen one."

"What happened next?" Safana said, giving Skie a warning look.

"Hobs and ogres are still there. I sent word to Beregost, waitin' for Kelddath or the Fist to send a team to kill the bastards. Been five days now, and nothing. So I've been spying on them in between my hunts, 'case they decide to hit the roads or push closer to town."

"Did you see anything else?" Safana asked. "Did anyone make it out of there?"

The man frowned at her for a moment, then seemed to deflate at her imploring expression. "No. Funny thing, though…there's a cave not far from the house. Hobs and ogres've been staying there too. What I saw, they found some treasure or loot hidden in there, but for some reason still haven't left the place." He shrugged. "Maybe they needed shelter after they sunk the house." He paused. "Who are you people anyway?"

"I'm Safana," said Safana. "This is Khalid, Garrick, Skie and Eldoth. We are trying to get to Amn, and we heard that the roads are too dangerous. You?"

The stranger looked at each of them in turn. Skie noted that his hands were still holding the bow and arrow. "Just a hunter," he said at last. He regarded them a moment longer before turning away.

"Where are you going?" asked Safana.

"Gotta keep watch on the house," the hunter replied. He walked away without another word or backward glance, disappearing into the undergrowth.

"I have to warn the others," Garrick said, breaking the silence. Skie turned and saw him carefully removing a strand of black hair from one of several pouches at his belt.

"The cave must have a passage to the Upperdark," said Khalid. "That's why they haven't left it."

"The Upperdark?" said Skie. Khalid looked at her, and when she instinctively flinched at his gaze, he seemed to soften.

"We were travelling underground to avoid the Flaming Fist," said Eldoth. "And if you are correct," he added to Khalid. "Our friends may be about to meet those 'hobs and ogres'. Assuming they haven't already."

"They haven't," said Garrick. "I've just spoken to them, they are still underground." He paused. "But the other exits are too far away, and Kagain's decided to fight. He's going to hit the enemy head-on and drive them out of the cave."

There was a long pause. Khalid then turned around, facing the direction that the hunter had left.

"Khalid?" said Garrick. The half-elf looked at him. "Are you…?"

"I am," Khalid replied, his voice soft. "The enemy have a shaman. A powerful one. If the enemy keep them inside the cave long enough, he'll collapse it down on them."

"There's a score of them over there. And ogres!" Garrick exclaimed. "And there's only five of us!"

"And if you think we have any intention of throwing Skie's life away, you're gravely mistaken," said Eldoth.

Khalid glared at him. Eldoth folded his arms. The half-elf's eyes moved to Skie. She blinked as his expression seemed to soften behind his helmet. Khalid then looked at Garrick again. A few seconds passed.

"Stay here," he said. He began to turn away and stopped when Safana placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I'll go with you. Just to scout," she said firmly. "If it's too dangerous, we'll wait for your people to attack them first, perhaps try to get closer to the shaman. If not, we head back."

Khalid quietly looked at Safana. After a long moment, he nodded. Safana gave him a quick smile, patted his shoulder once, then turned to the others.

"You three stay here and wait for us. If you hear any fighting, or if we are not back in ten minutes, you come running and save us."

"Okay," Skie replied. "Just…be careful."

"Aren't I always?" Safana grinned. "Take care of her, Eldoth."  
Eldoth nodded in reply. Skie felt an impulse to protest being coddled, but the fire, riot, arrow and the hunter's talk of people being drowned in their own home drove it out of her.

"You too, Garrick," Safana said to the other bard. Garrick did not answer; he was drawing another hair from his pouch, apparently to contact his party again.

Turning back to Khalid, Safana paused briefly to look him in the eye, then moved past him toward where the hunter had gone. Skie watched her and Khalid out of sight, and her hand subconsciously found its way to Eldoth's once again.

"Hm," Eldoth said, breaking the silence. "I hope I am wrong…but it seemed to me like he was spoiling for a fight."

"Khalid wants to help his wife and friends, Eldoth," Garrick said reproachfully. Eldoth looked at him with half-lidded eyes.

"Oh? Like he did at High Hedge?"

Garrick frowned at him, though it seemed half-hearted. Skie's brow furrowed.

"High Hedge? What happened at -?"

How she sensed it, she didn't know. But something made her look up, and she froze at the sight of a figure leaping from a tree branch and plummeting towards them.

Eldoth and Garrick were both looking at her when she was speaking. Upon seeing her face, they leaped away in opposite directions, Eldoth lifting Skie off the ground in his arms and pulling her with him.

Garrick cried out as Eldoth released her and whirled around. She saw blood spurt as the figure, taller and broader than Eldoth with reddish-brown skin and dark hair, pulled its knife out of Garrick's arm. Blood flicked from the blade, staining the hobgoblin's dark-brown mane of hair as Garrick barely reeled back in time to avoid the slash at his face.

A twig snapped behind her and she turned to see two more hobgoblins emerge from the undergrowth, bastard swords clutched in their hands as they stomped side-by-side towards her.

Her heart hammering in her chest, she fumbled for and drew her dagger only to immediately drop it. Her gaze moved from it to the hobgoblins who were now right in front of her. For an instant, her heart stopped beating.

The sound of a single strum of a lute pierced the air. The two hobgoblins lurched and staggered, and then Eldoth was in front of her, his sword decapitating both men in a single slash. Skie saw the miniature geysers of blood issuing from their necks as their heads and bodies tumbled to the ground.

Eldoth turned to her, and she looked up at him for a second before remembering Garrick and spinning around. The young bard now stood over the body of his would-be killer, pulling a thin-bladed short-sword from the hobgoblin's chest.

All three of them looked at each other for a few seconds, Garrick breathing heavily and clutching his arm. They then turned at the sounds of battle-cries and clashing steel.

"Khalid and Safana," said Garrick. He took off at a run, trailing blood as he sped past Skie and Eldoth.

"I'm going too," said Eldoth. She looked up at him, her eyes wide. "Follow me but stay back."

Skie hesitated, then nodded jerkily. She then looked around, spotted and grabbed her dagger off the ground, holding it in both hands close to her chest. Eldoth looked at her for a moment before turning and running after Garrick.

Skie followed him, stealing a glance at the three corpses on the ground, two of which were headless and still flowing blood from the stumps. She looked away, facing forward and willing her heart to stop thumping painfully against her ribs as anguished screams from up ahead reached her ears.

Eldoth barged and hacked his way through the undergrowth. Skie followed, head lowered and one hand over her forehead as leaves and small branches whipped past her face. About ten paces in front of them, Garrick suddenly skidded to a halt as three more hobgoblins appeared, armed with bastard swords and tower shields.

A crashing sound to her left made Skie turn, brandishing her dagger, and she screamed as a seven-foot-tall, yellow-skinned humanoid appeared from behind a tree and rushed at her with a huge club raised over its head in both hands.

 _Remember your training remember your training remember your training –_

Her left hand shot up and the dart flew straight and true, plunging deep into the ogrillon's right eye. It howled in agony, but instead of falling backward, continued its charge.

Skie's body turned cold as the club swung down towards her skull. Somehow her legs moved, springing her away just as it struck the ground where she had been a second earlier. Dirt, leaves and twigs flew, hitting her hard in the face. She reeled back, slipped on a tree root and landed on her back. She opened her eyes to see the ogrillon, face twisted in rage and blood flowing from its eye, lifting its club in both hands once again. Its expression suddenly became one of surprise, and the club slipped out of its hands as it slowly fell to its knees.

Stepping around and ignoring the ogrillon as it began to vomit blood, Eldoth reached down and grabbed Skie's arm, then roughly hurled her to her feet. He looked down at her for a full second before turning around to see Garrick being pushed back and hemmed in toward a tree by one of the hobgoblin swordsmen while the remaining two advanced on her and Eldoth, moving side-by-side with their shields up and their sword-arms pulled back with the tips of their weapons pointed at them like spears.

Eldoth turned to face them and strummed the lute at his left hip. His brow furrowed when the swordsmen continued to advance unimpeded.

"Your petty magics can't harm us, human!" one of them shouted. "Our comrade's power protects us!"

Sneering, Eldoth raised his scimitar as the two swordsmen separated, moving to the bard's flanks.

As Eldoth held his ground and parried a strike from the swordsman on his right, Skie dove forward into a roll past the one on his left. The hobgoblin's head turned towards her, his mouth opening in alarm, and he screamed as Skie's dart embedded itself in the back of his thigh. Parrying another strike from the other hobgoblin, Eldoth then leapt toward the injured one and scored a slash across his torso, his sword tearing through leather armour and flesh. The hobgoblin crumbled in a spray of blood, and Skie flinched and gasped as some of it struck her clothes.

Eldoth, his face and clothing blood-spattered, faced the remaining swordsman and smirked. Skie turned her head and saw that Garrick now had his back to the tree, barely warding off blows to his arms and legs from his opponent's sword, shield and feet. She slipped another dart into her palm and hurled it with all her might into the hobgoblin's back. Though the armor absorbed most of the dart, the swordsman nevertheless recoiled in pain and turned his head to look at Skie. In that half-second Garrick struck, his sword piercing his adversary's armpit below the sword-arm.

As the warrior fell and gave a death-rattle, Garrick, his arm still flowing blood, marched over to stand next to Eldoth. The bards and Skie stood together, facing the last hobgoblin.

"I advise you to surrender, sir," said Eldoth. Drop your weapon now, and call to your comrades to do the same. Do it and we may let you live."

The hobgoblin's eyes moved from the trio to his dead fellow swordsman, then to the ogrillon who was still on its knees. He looked back at Skie, Eldoth and Garrick, eyes narrowed in hatred.

"There's no need for you to die," Garrick said loudly, his voice shaking as he cradled his wounded arm to his chest while the other held up his sword.

A loud _thud_ sounded in the distance, followed by another. Garrick and Eldoth glanced at each other while keeping their swords pointed at the hobgoblin. The latter's lips widened into a smile.

"No. It is you who will die."

There was a moment's pause, and then Eldoth sprang forward. The hobgoblin turned the bard's sword aside with his shield, backing up as Garrick and Skie both turned to look at what was approaching.

Khalid appeared, helmet gone and armour dented and blood-spattered, running towards them with his sword in one hand while the other clutched at his stomach. Six hobgoblins burst out of the undergrowth after him; five swordsmen and one clad in brown fur and carrying what appeared to be an unlit torch.

The shaman's free hand reached for the head of the torch, and Skie's eyes widened in horror as a ball of brown, smoky liquid materialized above it.

"Kill them, brothers!" the surviving swordsman screamed, parrying another slash from Eldoth and backing towards his comrades. "Kill them all!"  
The shaman looked past the liquid-ball and 'torch', eyes blazing at the sight of his dead comrades as he glared at the party.

Skie flung another dart and watched in dismay as it struck his face and bounced off as though it were made of stone.

"The Lord of Depths and Darkness take you all," the shaman declared, 'pulling' the ball from the torch.

He pulled his arm back to throw. Skie's gaze followed it, and thus she spotted the glass vial sailing through the air.

It struck the shaman in the back of the head and shattered. He screamed in agony as the clear liquid doused his head, face and shoulders. The ball of liquid disappeared, and the torch slipped from his fingers as he fell writhing to the ground. The other six hobgoblins yelled and hurriedly moved to surround him, heads and eyes darting around frantically.

"Not how you're supposed to use it," Safana's voice shouted from off to the left. Relief flooded Skie as she watched her friend appear from the undergrowth, her scimitar still in its sheath as she strode over to stand with the party.

The shaman gave a final twitch and went still. The six swordsmen glared fiercely at the party as they locked their tower shields.

"You think you can frighten us, humans?!" one of them shouted. "You think you've beaten _us?!_ "

They clashed their shields together and then advanced on the party. Khalid, Garrick and Eldoth raised their swords. Breathing hard, Skie stepped up beside Eldoth, dagger in one hand and a fifth dart in the other. Safana, however did not draw a weapon.

Without warning, brown vines burst out of the dirt beneath the hobgoblins. As they yelled and struggled to break free, Skie spotted a dozen people surge into view, wearing what she recognized as the standard armour of the Dented Shields company and led by a dwarf wearing a winged helmet who could only be Kagain.

Ignoring Skie's party, the Shields moved to surround the hobgoblins, all of whom ceased struggling against the vines upon seeing them.

Skie and Garrick then jumped as another group of people emerged from their right, led by a half-elf woman who immediately ran to and threw her arms around Khalid.

"J-Jaheira," Khalid stammered. "Garrick's wounded!"

The woman named Jaheira held the embrace for a few more seconds before releasing him and going over to examine the bard's arm.

"Where's the hunter?" said Khalid. "We got separated when they attacked us."

"I don't know. I didn't see him when I went to find - "

Safana's voice and every other sound suddenly became distant to Skie as her eyes fell on a second dwarf among the group.

 _That's him. The one on the notices._

 _The one whom Father thinks killed Gunnhallur._

The dwarf's eyes met hers, and she realized too late that she was staring. He held her gaze for a few seconds before looking away and approaching Khalid. Skie watched him speak to the half-elf, and Khalid smiling and placing a hand on his shoulder.

He was thin, surprisingly so for a dwarf, and shorter than Kagain. The crossbow in his hands was nearly two-thirds his own height, and he carried no axe or war hammer, in contrast to the battle-axe, flail, throwing axes and heavy crossbow on Kagain's person.

Skie watched as a girl dressed in pink clothing and carrying a short-bow ran up and hugged Khalid. She blinked and looked away, only to find a halfling barely two paces in front of and staring straight at her.

"Montaron," said Eldoth's voice from beside her. "Good to see you again. I'd like you to meet –"

The halfling turned away, walked over to and began to search the nearest dead hobgoblin. Skie felt herself shiver and instinctively looked away, which brought her gaze to the kneeling ogrillon. A man in green robes was leaning over it, feeling its head with both hands and muttering to himself.

"…what's he doing?" she heard herself ask.

"Please pay him no mind," a voice said. Skie turned as a young man in plate armour approached her. Her brow furrowed at the sight of his cape, recognizing its colours as those worn by the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart.

 _What is a paladin doing with these wanted fugitives?_

"Are you injured, my lady?" the man asked.

Skie looked down at herself. Her clothes her torn and blood-stained, but she was otherwise unhurt aside from the healed wound in her hip. She looked up at the man, and a wave of fatigue suddenly washed over her. "No, thank you, but…I think I need to…"

Eldoth moved next to her, slipping an arm around her waist. She leaned into him, looking at the two dead hobgoblins whom she had wounded with her darts.

 _I did that._

She felt her body go slack, and Eldoth promptly reached down and scooped her up in his arms. Too tired to be embarrassed, she said nothing as he carried her and followed the party after the Dented Shield mercenaries, who had bound the hobgoblins with rope and were now frog-marching them back in the direction they had come from.

She glanced over Eldoth's shoulder and saw the pink-clad girl pulling along the green-robed man who pouted and reached for the ogrillon.

"Still feel bored?" Eldoth asked. She looked at him, and her eyes flicked to the blood-stained and corpse-strewn ground behind them. "Sorry," he said, noticing her gaze.

She leaned her head into his shoulder and closed her eyes.

..

* * *

The hunter was dead, his throat cut by a hobgoblin scout. The bodies of four hobgoblins lay nearby, all fallen to Khalid's sword.

The house was a one-storey lodge, big enough to accommodate twenty people. It was now sunk up to its roof in brownish water. Judging from the size of the building, Skie deduced that the lake must be very deep.

"The Lord of Depth and Darkness…" she said aloud.

"Maglubiyet is not usually associated with water," Safana spoke from beside her. "Interesting."

Skie looked at her and then at Eldoth and Garrick who were conversing with the party and Kagain a short distance away; the two women had been ordered by the mercenary leader to stay separated from everyone until he was ready to speak to them.

"Do you –"  
"Not now, little sister," Safana answered without looking at her. Skie glanced at her and then at Kagain who was glaring at them while speaking to Eldoth. Her eyes then moved to Khalid and Jaheira.

 _Elven hearing_. She admonished herself. _Watch yourself, Skie. You're in it now. No time to be careless._

Her gaze moved to the pink-clad girl and Dorean, of whom the half-elves were standing next to. The dwarf, for some reason, had his back to the sunken house.

She felt Safana's hand on her sleeve and looked up to see Kagain stomping nosily over to them with one of his mercenaries, a surly-faced woman with close-cropped hair, following him. The dwarf stopped in front of and glared up at them both.

"Ya want protection."

"Yes," said Safana. "An escort for –"  
"Shut up," Kagain growled. Safana blinked, but otherwise did not react. Skie glanced at the sunken house, remembering what the hunter had told them about its residents and occupants being connected to the Dented Shields.

"Look at me when I'm talkin' ta ya, brat."

Skie obeyed. Kagain's eyes were an icy, piercing blue, and despite his shorter height, she had to resist the urge to step back.

"Ya have a noble mom who's willin' ta pay. We get ta Nashkel, ya send word ta her. Tell her ta get a thousand gold ready."

"A thousand?"

"Ya boyfriend tells me ya in trouble with the daughter'a the Lord of Waterdeep. Thousand's just the startin' fee. The more trouble I get protectin' ya, the higher it'll go. Tell ya mom that. Ya don't like it, ya get can outta my face right now."

Skie felt Safana's eyes on her. She looked at Eldoth. The bard, still blood-spattered, appeared calm and relaxed. Then, forcing herself not to look at Dorean, Skie straightened and nodded to Kagain. "I agree to your terms, Captain. You will be paid well for protecting me. You have my word."

"I'll hold ya to that. An' ya better not break it. I don't care whose sodding kid ya are." He glared up at her, then looked at the sunken house for a moment before turning away and waving to his men to gather around him.

Skie looked at Safana. The latter smiled, took her arm and guided her to Garrick's party.

"Skie, Safana," said Eldoth as they approached. "I believe introductions are in order."  
Before anyone else could speak, the pink-clad girl skipped forward.

"Heya. I'm Imoen. And the timid one over there is my little brother Dorean. And no, contrary to what the leaders and the law of this country are saying, he is an innocent man."

There was a long pause.

"Not entirely," Dorean said at last, turning around to face Skie and Safana. "I am guilty of thievery."

Skie hesitated, then smiled politely. "That won't be a problem."

"I see you've met Kagain," said Imoen, scowling at the mercenary leader.

"Yes, I…" Skie's voice trailed off as she looked over her shoulder.

The Dented Shields had bound the six prisoners' feet and were now dragging them toward the sunken house.

"What are they doing?" Skie asked, her voice trembling.

"The Chill killed their allies by drowning them," Jaheira said grimly.

Skie's breath caught in her throat as the hobgoblins were hurled into the lake. They trashed violently in the water, bellowing curses and threats at the top of their lungs. The Dented Shields all stood and watched, not one of them moving a muscle. Skie saw several of them smiling at the sight of the drowning prisoners. A shudder ran through her and she hurriedly looked away.

She saw that the young knight had also turned his head from the sight and had closed his eyes, his mailed left hand clenched tightly around his sword-pommel. Dorean again had his back turned to the sunken house, and Skie's eyes widened upon seeing that he was shaking even more than her.

The girl named Imoen put her arms around Dorean's shoulders and rested her chin on the top of his head. She whispered to him and rubbed his arms, and Skie was reminded of Eldoth protecting her earlier from the Beregost crowds.

"We should leave this place," said Jaheira's voice. "We can make our introductions later."

The party moved past the lake and the Dented Shields. Skie caught Kagain's eye as she passed. The dwarf glared coldly at her and she turned away, forcing herself not to look at the rising bubbles on the lake's surface.

 _No turning back now, Skie._

She felt Eldoth's arm around her waist, and slowly leaned into him.

 _No matter what happens, no matter what I might see, I will do this. I_ _ **must**_ _do this._

Her gaze fell on Dorean once again; the dwarf was now quietly walking beside Imoen and Khalid.

 _I will be strong for you, Gunnhallur._

From the corner of her eye, she saw the halfling glancing at her. He held her gaze for several seconds, then silently increased his pace and moved up ahead of her.

..

* * *

Kivan sat on a boulder to examine the arrow in his arm. Thankfully, the wound was shallow; the time and effort he had put into crafting arm-guards had not gone to waste.

Extracting it with a pained grunt, Kivan grimaced upon seeing that the arrow's magic was now spent. He placed it in his quiver nevertheless and reached for a healing potion.

He had not expected the Chill to use heart-seekers, much less face archers who were _all_ equipped with them. From what he had seen, the Blacktalons were the primary archers of the bandit force, and even they never used heart-seekers in any of his skirmishes and fights with them.

He will have to assume that they all have heart-seekers from now on.

Standing up, he cast his gaze over the bodies of twenty hobgoblins and seven war-horses strewn across the field. His face wrinkled in revulsion at the sight of the ghasts feasting on the remains.

One of the hobgoblins was still alive. He had propped himself against a rock and was shakily attempting to load a crossbow in spite of the two arrows in his chest.

Kivan slowly moved toward him, stepping over bodies. The warrior snarled at his approach, blood issuing from his mouth and staining his armour.

Kivan stopped less than five paces away. He watched as the hobgoblin tried to pull back the string of the crossbow, eyes blazing with hate at the elf. He finally succeeded on the fourth attempt, slowly raised the crossbow with shaking hands, and pulled the trigger.

Kivan batted the bolt aside with his halberd.

The hobgoblin glared at him for a moment. Blood flowed from the arrows in his chest. He then slowly moved his convulsing left hand to the quiver at his side, grasping another bolt in his blood-slicked fingers.

Kivan did not move a muscle. The hobgoblin, snarling and vomiting blood, spent a full minute attempting to place the bolt in his crossbow. He finally succeeded after dropping it twice, and raised the weapon again.

Kivan's halberd struck and the crossbow was dashed aside, the hobgoblin's left hand still holding the grip.

The warrior did not scream. He went still for a few seconds, then sank back against the rock, wheezing with every breath. His arrow-skewered chest was now soaked with blood, the dark liquid spreading across the ground from his body. His eyes looked up at Kivan, remaining fixed on his face even as the light went out of them.

Kivan did not move for a long moment. Then, slowly, he slung his halberd onto his back and stepped forward.

Twenty paces away, Tiax stood still, his quarterstaff gripped loose in his hand. Ignoring the ghast gorging itself on a horse carcass next to him, he watched as Kivan kneeled and closed the eyes of the dead warrior. The gnome's eyes narrowed, and he neither flinched nor blinked as horse blood spattered his face.


End file.
